


The Flare

by fallfromgraceonmyface92



Category: Green Day, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Action/Adventure, Big Brothers, Disfigurement, Dystopia, End of the World, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutants, Nuclear Winter, Original Character(s), Post-Apocalypse, Post-Nuclear War, Rebuilding, Rivalry, Romance, Sibling Rivalry, Survival, Survival Horror, War, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 00:50:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17971319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallfromgraceonmyface92/pseuds/fallfromgraceonmyface92
Summary: Gerard has never known a world of warmth and comfort. Born in the aftermath of The Flare, Gerard and Mikey, along with their aging caretakers, must fight constantly for survival. On what should be a routine scavenging mission, Gerard and Mikey are accosted by a group of malicious raiders, only to be saved by a reckless stranger who rapidly changes Gerard's idea of what it means to be alive. In a poisoned world full of mutated creature, raiders, and treachery, can there be more to life than just surviving?





	1. Intro

        For as long as I can remember, it's been frigidly cold. Winter and Summer were things Billie and Brendon spoke of wistfully and often but as far my brother and I were concerned they were, at worst, meaningless words and, at best, relics of a time long dead. I was born in the dark and I lived in the dark and the sun was a mythological creature that had long since turned his back on those of us which he once gave life.

         Billie used to tell us stories, as kids, of the world left behind. He said that a long time ago there were places you could go to eat something called a cheeseburger, any time of the day, and that they were made with real meat instead of genetically engineered tofu grown in some dank lab. He spoke of machines that were installed in almost every home that could just create heat without fire just by pressing a button. He also told us of great glittering cities blinking with lights that twinkled and glowed at all hours and music on discs that you could listen to whenever you felt like it.

       He promised that one day all of these things would be a part of everyday life once again. And once upon a time, I believed him. As I grew up, though, I began to see Billie for what he really was. An old man. I loved him dearly and he taught Mikey and I everything we know but he was an old man, trapped in the past. A past that I had no connection to and never would.

        If I ever needed a reminder of that fact, I need not look further than my reflection. The spider web of ugly, glaring scars that marred my right cheek was enough to know that things would never be as they were then. Mikey was no luckier. He was born with a thick cataract in one of his hazel eyes, leaving his vision irreparably damaged.

       Brendon was quick to tell us that we were the lucky ones. Some people our age were born with extra fingers or toes. Some we're missing eyes or never grew adult teeth. Some had tumors and boils that throbbed and gushed pus. And many… Far too many, never even made it to our age because of their Flaremarks.

       Billie was quick to dismiss it as savage nonsense but those of us who grew up in this destitute world refered to the event that changed everything as the Flare. It's said that in the times gone by, this land’s government and governments across the world fought, first with laws and regulations, then with soldiers and guns. Eventually not even that could sate their bloodlust and when things escalated they dropped weapons that poisoned not only the land, but also the air and the sky.

       I can't remember a time when, even at its brightest, the sun was more than a dark grey blob in an otherwise blackened sky. I've never tasted truly clean water that didn't leave the sour aftertaste of carbon in my mouth. I've never been able to go outside wearing less than five layers of clothing.

       You'd think having been born into this world the way it is that you would get used to the cold but when the highest the temperature rises is -10 degrees Fahrenheit, there's seldom a moment when the cold doesn't find a way to seep into your bones. Sometimes I envy Billie and Brendon for their memories of sweltering Summer nights under stars that I'll never see but then I’d see the wringing loss in their eyes and I would think perhaps it's better having never known.

       Billie liked stay on the optimistic side of things. He swore every five years or so that the sun was shining brighter than it was just five years before but having grown in blackness, I couldn't see the light. I often wondered if my father shared Billie's optimistic point of view.

       We were orphans, Mikey and I. My mother fell pregnant with me a few years after the Flare when she, my father, Billie, Brendon, and Billie's wife were holed up in an underground shelter awaiting the end of what Billie referred to as “nuclear fallout.” I was born screaming into this world in 2042 in a filthy bunker, under the dim light of emergency candles.         When I was too young to remember or realize what the world was really like, we ran out of food and had no choice to leave the bunker behind. We were underdressed for the weather and unprepared for the cruelty that the surviving members of the world had taken upon themselves to survive, although Billie when he was at his lowest points, would tell me that people were always this unkind, but back then they kept it inside. My mother was several months pregnant with Mikey at the time and she wasn't alone. Billie's wife was also pregnant with their first child. 

     We'd only just found reasonably safe shelter at the lab when we were attacked by a group of Mutes, who had claimed the land for their own. We were lucky that the deformed creatures weren't equipped with guns but they had archaic clubs and machetes. Despite my father's best attempts to protect my mother, one of the Mutes clubbed her over the head.

      My father, Billie, and Brendon managed to fight the group off, while Billie's wife hid with me in her arms, but the damage was done. When my father returned to my mother's side, she was already suffering from convulsions. With the last bit of clarity she had left, my mother demanded that my father save their baby. With no other course of action available, my father and Billie's wife, Adrienne, were forced to cut my brother from her womb. With her last breath she named him Michael.

       Mikey was a couple of months premature and had it not been for Adrienne's coincidental pregnancy, he'd likely have died. With no real time to mourn, there was no choice but to bury our mother and try to rebuild. Six months after Mikey was born and was just transitioning to soft foods, Adrienne died in childbirth. Their child's Flaremarks were too severe to survive and she died shortly after. He named her Joanne and buried them alongside my mother.

       A few years later, when I was just beginning to realize the horrors of the life I lived, my father left on a scavenging mission and never came back. Brendon searched for him for months, while Billie looked after my brother and I, but there was no sign of him to be found.

       So it was Billie that taught my brother and I how to read, write and tend the hydroponic garden within the lab and once we were teenagers, Brendon taught us survival skills. He taught us how to wield a weapon, how to look for signs of other survivors, and how to find “clean” water and food. They were, first, our parents, then our clansmen.

       Billie and Brendon were growing older and as we grew, more and more of the responsibility of our survival was delegated to Mikey and I. Because of the conditions of his birth, Mikey was somewhat feeble but no matter how hard I tried to protect him, it only made him work harder. He was not only my brother but also my partner. It wasn't a figure of speech to say that I would die for him.

       I sat upon my bunk nibbling a piece of bland cornbread and attempting to read a faded Spiderman comic book by candlelight when there was a knock at the door. “Hey, Gee, you up?” Brendon asked loudly, entering without waiting for an answer. I swallowed the last bit of cornbread with an eye roll and folded my comic closed. “If I hadn't been, I certainly would be now,” I remarked snarkily.

       The lines around his eyes deepened as he grinned mischievously. “You know we have an open door policy in this… lab,” he replied cheekily, his brown eyes twinkling with mirth. “Yeah, yeah,” I brushed him off, “what did you need?”

       He looked unusually bashful then. “I, uh, need you guys to go out,” he grumbled, staring at his grimey boots. I raised an eyebrow and waited patiently. “Our water filter,” he started quietly, “we need a replacement.”

       “I thought we had a back up,” I complained but I was already reaching for my gloves. “I replaced it last Fall, remember? I had to-” before he could finish, he dissolved into a coughing fit. It had been happening more and more often lately.

       He staggered on his feet and I flew to my feet and gripped his shoulder. “I thought you said you were getting better,” I sniped, not without concern. He swept his greying pompadour back against his skull and smiled but it didn't meet his eyes. “It is?” He said in a way that I wasn't sure if he was trying to convince me or himself. My heart squeezed in my chest with fear.

       “Is he up?” Billie called, descending down the hall toward us. My amusement at the synchronicity of their behavior was enough to banish the thought from my mind. “I'm just about to head out,” I told him relinquishing my grip on Brendon's shoulder and moving to grab my backpack. Billie pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his stubby nose and looked to Brendon, “the water pump?” Brendon nodded, that shame returning to his expression.

       Billie sighed and crossed his arms the way I imagined a mother might before a big lecture. He quickly uncrossed them when I began to smirk at him. “I- I'll, uh, go tell Mikey to get ready,” Billie said pulling at his dark curly locks as he often did when he was worried and he was always worried. It gave a look akin to the pictures of a man named Albert Einstein that I found in an old history book. “Be careful, Gerard,” he called over his shoulder as he started back down the hall.

       When we were alone again, I began to pull on layers of clothes. “You're, um, gonna have to go pretty deep into the city to find the right parts,” he reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded up manual, “if you can, try to bring a spare or two back with you.” I nodded and tucked the manual in my jacket pocket. I adjusted the straps of my backpack and forced a smile.

       As I moved to leave the room, Brendon grabbed my shoulder, “hey… Thanks, Gee.” I patted his hand comfortingly and shrugged it off. For the last twenty years of my life, I'd relied on Billie and Brendon to protect and provide for Mikey and I. Now, it was my turn.

       Mikey stood waiting for me near the airlock, his gas mask already secured over his face. He hitched his backpack higher on his shoulders and turned to me. “You ready?” he asked as I pulled my mask over my face. I nodded and began to undo the locking mechanism.  Despite the routine nature of this expedition, something hung cloyingly in the atmosphere and as we left our home that day, I knew, without knowing, that everything was about to change.        


	2. The City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to switch perspectives from this chapter on.

       Gerard holstered his machete for a moment to pull his collar closer to his throat. According to the thermostat outside the lab, the temperature was at a biting -27 degrees and no matter how hard they tried, Mikey and Gerard couldn't seem to stop their teeth from chattering. It didn't help that the soot blackened snow had soaked their pant legs to the knee.

       The journey into the derelict city was long and arduous but otherwise pretty mundane. If you considered fighting off two separate groups of deformed and babbling Mutes mundane, that is. Gerard had been forced to cut the head off of a particularly nasty Mute that had managed to get Mikey on the ground and was trying to rip his mask off. He was still trying to shake off the glazed stare of it’s three eyes. Brendon and Billie had raised them to believe that the Mutes weren't people but sometimes Gerard couldn't help but wonder if they, too, were just doing what they had to, to survive.

       After that fight, he couldn't help but keep sneaking glances at his younger brother. It was a closer call than Gerard was comfortable with and he secretly scolded himself for not doing a better job protecting him. He'd lost his mother and father before he was old enough to do anything about it and he vowed to himself, each and everyday, that so long as he had breath in his body, no harm would come to Mikey.

       Gerard had been humming under his breath in attempt to distract himself from the way the wind battered at the back of his neck, like searing hot needles but as they entered the remnants of the city, he fell quiet, listening. The outskirts, in which they lived, were dangerous but the ravaged cityscape was an entirely different breed of animal.

       Jagged, broken beams surrounded them ominously, like the teeth of a savage beast waiting to close it's jaws around them. One might think that a huge of populous like the former Utopia might be filled with Mutes and once upon a time, you'd have been correct. Gerard was only thirteen when the Mute/Raider war broke out in the city fifteen years earlier.

         No one knew quite how it began, but for six long months, a series of bloody battles waged on between human and Mute. More blood was spilt on each side than anyone could count and the howling wind seemed to carry the blood curdling screams for miles. Many nights during those months did Gerard lay, curled into a ball, his palms pressed to his ears and Mikey shivering at his side.

        Brendon, who had ventured out during the war and seen the sheer carnage of it all, put the lab into lockdown. Gerard would never forget the fear in his eyes when he returned that night. Brendon never told him of the atrocities that he'd witnessed that day but staunchly insisted, after, that it was time that he and Mikey learn to fight. Billie and Brendon had many a heated fight about it, late in the night when they thought the brothers to be asleep.

       Billie insisted vehemently that they were too young and that their innocence should be preserved as long as possible but with Brendon's argument that they no longer lived in a world where the innocent could survive, Billie caved. So during those six months, Gerard and Mikey learned not only how to fight with both machetes and clubs, but also how to set traps and evade capture. Brendon no longer withheld his knowledge of the horrors of the outside world but pointedly told them of some of the tragedies that he'd seen unfold on his expeditions.

       When, at last, the war ended what Mutes were left alive were forced out of the city and the brothers, despite having seen little of the real world, were already more battle hardened than any thirteen and ten year old had the right to be. When Brendon lifted the lockdown, he began to take the brothers with him on his journeys, putting their newly learned skills to the test. Gerard still sometimes had nightmares of the mangled corpses he'd witnessed piled in the streets from the aftermath.

       All was quiet, save for the sounds of the brothers muffled breathing from their masks, when Mikey whispered, “look.” He nodded towards the center of a pile of rubble. Stacked in suspiciously neat rows on top of the crushed concrete were various cans of food. Gerard froze midstep, his eyes quickly scanning their surroundings. Mikey, however, was headed towards the pile. “Mikey, stop,” Gerard hissed, starting after him. “Man, calm down,” Mikey scoffed, “I think I see peaches. We haven't had peaches in years.” Gerard grabbed his shoulder with a practiced sweep of his hand and turned him toward him. “There's such a thing as too good to be true,” Gerard told him looking frantically for the owner of this obvious stash.

       “I know what you're thinking,” Mikey retorted, a defiant glow in his good eye, “but there's dozens of cans there. There's no way they'll miss one.” He shrugged Gerard's hand off and started toward them. “We don't even know if they're good!” Gerard said all in one breath, rushing after him. The younger brother ignored him and was already leaning over the pile. Gerard was about to pull him away when a single arrow shot towards them from the distance and stuck in the frozen ground at their feet.

       Gerard's vision greyed out as his internal warning bells began to scream out at him. Without a second's thought, he grabbed his brother's wrist and began to sprint, fighting against the filthy snow at their feet. For the second time that day, Gerard scolded himself. Brendon had warned them of such drop off points set up by the raiders, they were closely guarded and watched well. He should have known.

       Gerard ran as hard as his body could, Mikey barely keeping to his feet behind him. He ran and ran until his lungs screamed at him to stop and a dangerously painful stitch formed in his side. Only then did he stop and pull Mikey against the broken remnants of a shop. As angry as he was at himself, he was seethingly furious at Mikey.

        “You. Can't. Do. Things. Like. That!” Gerard raged, his breath still tearing from his chest. “I didn't think th-” Mikey started, his heaving breath fogging the glass of his gas mask. “You didn't think!” Gerard all but shouted, clutching his knees in attempt to regain his breath. “Why are you acting so high and mighty, Gerard?” Mikey demanded, “I'm an adult! I'm twenty-five years old!”

       Gerard growled ferociously and grabbed the lapels of Mikey's filthy coat. “You could have been killed!” Gerard screamed, shaking his brother with each word, “I don't care if you're an adult. We may be partners but I am your older brother. It is my fucking job to protect you when we're out here, so when I say, 'don't,’ you fucking don't! Do you understand me?!” Mikey was wide-eyed and startled but he nodded and shook his brother's hands off.

       “Now, let's fucking go,” Gerard said dismissively, “we've got to backtrack God knows how far.” Gerard sighed loudly and turned his back on him. Mikey readjusted his jacket and had the good grace to look chastened as they started back the way they'd come.

      It took nearly an hour and a half to find what they were looking for. The 3M warehouse was once a bustling hub of life and cacophonous noise. Now, it laid in shambles, its metal siding mangled into unrecognizable heaps. It was there the brothers paused to study manual Brendon had given them. He had circled the model number and a faded picture of the part in a diagram in the back of the worn pages. And, at last, they began their laborious search among the wreckage.

        They'd been searching for what felt like hours and the already bleak darkness was growing darker still and Gerard began to grow anxious. If they were to make it home before true dark, when the raiders roamed the streets in earnest, they needed to find the part immediately. The brothers were growing hopeless.

        Despite the desperate cold, a sheen of sweat was forming on Gerard's skin beneath his layers from lifting the heavy siding to dig into its hidden contents. “I think I found them!” Mike called from a few dozen feet away. Gerard sighed in relief and started towards the younger brother. Mikey stood scrutinizing several boxes in his gloved hands, a piece of siding leaning against his shoulder. Gerard flipped the siding away from him and looked over his shoulder.

       “The serial number looks right,” Mikey confirmed inspecting the palm sized boxes. “Are they intact though?” Gerard asked, plucking one from his hand. Without waiting for an answer, he popped open the plastic casing. Resting inside were various coils and fuses, seemingly in working order. Mikey pumped his fist victoriously at the sight and began to shove boxes into his backpack. It was a decent haul and Gerard hoped that it would help to keep the water “clean” for the foreseeable future.

      “Let's get the hell out of here before it gets nuts out here,” Gerard ordered, already toeing his way across the crumpled metal. He was hungry, tired and in desperate need for his weekly shower. Billie's admonishment be damned.

       They'd only taken a few steps into the crumbled street when the light of torches began to surround them. “Fuck,” Mikey hissed under his breath, his hand falling instinctually to the bat strapped inside his long jacket. Gerard grabbed his hand and shook his head.

       'I should have known we'd be followed after that stunt with the cans,’ Gerard thought as the scarred faces of men and women glowed back at them. “Give it up,” an older woman spoke from the circle, the harsh light of the torch making the ravaged hole in her cheek all the more gruesome. “W-we don't have anything you want,” Mikey spoke up, his hands shaking at his sides, “just some mechanical parts.” “We saw you rats earlier,” spoke a man from over Gerard's shoulder, “we know you tried to nic our food.”

       “He didn't know any better,” Gerard replied, the boom of his own voice startling him, “we mean you no harm.” “Give us what you got, boy,” the hole faced woman demanded, “whatever it is, it's too good for the likes of you thieving snakes.” They were moving slowly closer and Gerard was beginning to realize that there would be no peaceful resolution to this situation. They didn't appear to have any weapons but he and Mikey were appreciably outnumbered.

       “Fuck off with this petty bullshit,” Mikey spat to Gerard's great frustration. He groaned and ripped his machete from its holster as they collectively surged toward them. The hole faced woman was the first to reach them and without hesitation, Mikey swung his bat and smacked her upside the head with a sickening clunk.

        Gerard let out a battle cry and chopped a man with an oozing boil on his forehead's arm off at the elbow. Mikey swung savagely, hitting whatever body parts had the misfortune of coming into his range and Gerard, with his back against his brother's, hacked away at the overwhelming number of raiders. But there were just too many.

       Hands surged at them from all sides buffeting them with blows and Gerard knew they were done for. He hoped that Brendon wouldn't find their bodies torn and strewn about the streets. As blows struck his head and abdomen, he said a silent prayer to a god he hardly believed in. A prayer that there was something better in death than the world he'd been born into. He closed his eyes and grabbed Mikey's hand, thankful that, at least, they would die together.

       BOOM! The loudest noise Gerard had ever heard echoed across the city. The writhing bodies around them froze. “Step away from them, now!” a voice screamed out. In the light of the raiders’ discarded torches, the brothers saw a small figure bearing something they'd only ever heard stories about. A shotgun.

       One of the raiders seemed to snap out of his stupor and launched himself at the figure. BOOM! Gerard watched in horror as the man's leg all but disintegrated from the knee down. The man fell shrieking in the snow. “Come on!” the figure yelled to them already turning. It was Mikey who moved first, dragging the dazed Gerard toward the person.

       “It's a gun,” one of the raiders said, “he has a gun!” The brothers had just reached the figure's side and tucked their weapons away when the person shouted, “RUN!” Suddenly, the figure grabbed Gerard's hand and began to run, shotgun pointed at the abysmal sky. Mikey clung to his brother's shoulder as the stranger lead them down winding passages deeper into the city. The thunder of boots on crushed concrete and hard packed snow was far too close for any of their liking.

         Not for the first time that day, the brothers ran until their bodies screamed in protest. The stranger was small and lithe and dragged them through turn after turn, not so much as breathing hard. Whoever they were, they were used to running. Gerard was beginning to become light-headed went the person slowed to a stop.

       Mikey and Gerard both braced themselves on their knees, trying desperately to slow their breathing. “Hush!” the figure demanded and the brothers forced themselves to hold their breath. After a moment, the person sighed in satisfaction. The sound of footsteps had long since receded.

       “Come with me,” the noticeably male voice commanded, forcing his way between two large pieces of debris. “Look, we're thankful to you but our… dads will be waiting,” Mikey huffed in response. Gerard raised an eyebrow at his word choice but said nothing. “Are you crazy?” the man asked incredulously, “they're not as stupid as they look! If you go back out there tonight, they will find you and they will kill you.”

       “I told you-” Mikey started to argue. “Mikey,” Gerard interrupted, “he's right. Wherever he's taking us, we'll have to hole up for the night.” With that, Gerard began to follow the stranger through the crevice. Mikey reluctantly joined them. “Gerard,” Mikey griped quietly as they squeezed between the ruins, “we don't know this guy. He could one of those serial killers Billie talks about.” The man leading them chuckled heartily.

       “I can hear you, you know,” he said, not unkindly, “besides, I just saved your asses back there. If I wanted you dead, I could have walked on by.” With that the lithe man ducked beneath a beam. Chastened again, Mikey grumbled under his breath as they followed the man's lead. On the other side, surprisingly unobstructed, was a set of steel doors built into the ground.

       With some effort, the small man flung the doors open and gestured for the brothers to follow him. Hesitantly, Mikey and Gerard followed him down the dark stairwell and Mikey nervously pulled the doors closed. As they reached the bottom and stood before another door, Gerard was struck with the oddest sense of deja Vu.

       “This part kind of sucks,” the man said apologetically as he pulled a handle imbedded in the wall. Powerful suction sealed the doors on either side and before they could say a word, they were being drenched with scalding water. It was a decontamination chamber, not as sophisticated as the one at the lab but familiar nonetheless. As soon as the blast of water was finished, they were buffeted at all sides with gusts of air. Gerard was nearly blown off his feet when, at last, it stopped.

       With all their layers, the trio was still damp but would dry soon enough. The door before them opened with a loud pop and the stranger stepped inside. “Come on in,” he said with comical hospitality, “it's not much but it's my home away from home.” The brothers followed him inside, still dazed from the decontamination process.

       Mikey tentatively closed the door behind them. They were immersed in true darkness for a moment before the stranger, one by one, began to light emergency candles and line them up on a table. Gerard was stunned as he took in his surroundings. Not only was the place familiar, he was certain he'd been here before.

       With no explanation, he dashed to the far wall and ripped his backpack from his shoulders. He fumbled a butane lighter from his pocket and sparked it. The walls were adorned with childish chalk drawings of something that resembled a group of men and women, too big smiles drawn on their faces. “Cute, huh? They were here when I found the place,” the stranger said from behind him.        “I-I was born here,” Gerard stated in awe. “This is the bunker?” Mikey asked, his voice disbelieving. “Wait, what are you talking about?” the man asked, humor gone from his voice. “This… this is where our family came to survive The Flare,” Gerard answered in monotone.

       “What a coincidence,” the stranger replied, sounding nervous. Suspicion flooded Gerard's mind then and he ripped the mask from his face without thinking. “Who the hell are you and how did you find this place?!” Gerard demanded, his dark hair standing on end.

       As way of reply, the man pulled his mask off, his toboggan dropping to the floor. He had long dark hair that flooded to his shoulders. He smiled sheepishly and reflexively tucked his locks back, revealing the most fascinating Flaremark Gerard had ever seen. His face was perfect; soft and unmarred, save for a deep scar across his right eyebrow. Each of his ears, however, came to a fine point at the top, much like the elves Gerard had seen in his comic books.

       Realizing his mistake, the man bent down and grabbed his toboggan. He pulled it down over his ears and looked down, suddenly shy. “My name is Frank,” he said, his eyes glittering in the candlelight, “and I mean you no harm.”


	3. The Deal

       Gerard was too mesmerized to speak. He'd seen cleft palates and what appeared to be half-melted faces but never in his short life had he seen a Flaremark that made a person look better. Mikey, however, either did not notice or just plain didn't care because he ripped his mask off and stepped towards Frank and poked his gloved finger into his chest.

        “Answer his question. How did you find this place?!” Mikey demanded, glaring inyo Frank's eyes. Frank scoffed and pushed Mikey's hand away. “First of all, keep your damn hands to yourself,” Frank responded with venom in his voice, “and second of all, if you calm the hell down I'll tell you.” Mikey, stunned into silence, took a couple steps back. Frank busied himself digging in a cabinet in the wall.

       He came away a bag of dried strips and ripped into a piece. Without being near him, Gerard's nose narrowed in on the scent and some archaic, animalistic part of him knew that it was real meat. His mouth began to water as he wondered who this man was and where he'd come from where they not only had animals but excess to slaughter for food.

        “I'm a courier,” Frank explained, through a mouthful of meat, “I was sent here to pick something up. I've sort of used it as a place to get away, ever since.” Gerard was too distracted by the scent of the dried meat and the man's ears to say much. Mikey didn't seem to have the same problem. “Who sent you and what the hell did they want?” Mike quizzed impatiently.

       “I don't know what it was,” Frank replied, unpacking bedrolls from another cabinet, “it was a sealed envelope and I was told to open it under no circumstances, under threat of death, basically.” At last Gerard's curiosity got the best of him. “Who wanted the envelope?” Gerard asked quietly. Frank seemed to wince at his soft inquiry. “And why are you scared of them?” Gerard added, crossing his arms over his chest.

       “He's kind of our leader,” Frank admitted uncomfortably, “no one knows his real name but he goes by Capo.” “Gerard, what if he's the guy who killed dad?!” Mikey exclaimed, far too loudly for the quiet bunker. Gerard gave him a scathing look for his lack of discretion. “He's certainly capable of it,” Frank mumbled, sitting on a bedroll, his knees pressed to his chest.

            “You've got to take us to him!” Mikey commanded, all but throwing a tantrum. “You'd be killed on the spot,” Frank retorted bitingly. “You don't know us-” Mikey started. “Mikey,” Gerard spat, “shut up! He's right. Even if this Capo guy was responsible, there's no way in hell we could just burst into a stronghold holding God knows how many people and start demanding answers.” Frank looked a little impressed for a moment, before dropping his eyes to his scuffed boots.

       “Wait, if you're from a stronghold big enough to have a leader,” Mikey began quietly, “why the hell are you holed up in this bunker?” “I told you,” Frank replied flippantly, “to get away.” The sharp eared man began to look very apprehensive but Mikey continued his line of questioning. “To get away from what, exactly?” the younger brother inquired, at least trying to sound sympathetic. “I don't want to talk about it,” Frank said in a way that told them there would be no room for argument.

       Later, the brothers sat on the other side of the room, whispering amongst themselves, while Frank laid curled inside his bedroll. He watched them wearily and Gerard couldn't help but thinking he looked hauntingly lonely. “If we can't go to them,” Mikey whispered to Gerard, “we should take him with us.” “And then what?” Gerard replied, unconvinced. “Brendon has been around the block a few times,” Mikey said directly into his brother's ear, “I bet you he knows ways to make him tell us what he knows.”

       “Are you talking about torture?” Gerard hissed back at him. Mikey snapped his mouth closed. Gerard loved his brother but sometimes he was so incredibly impulsive and reckless that he wanted to slap him. Gerard, despite his own mistrust, saw something recognizable in Frank's demeanor. He suddenly had an idea. “You're looking for a way out, aren't you?” Gerard asked Frank, startling the man across the room.

       “What are you doing?” Mikey questioned, following Gerard's line of thinking. Gerard hushed him and turned his attention back to the small man. Frank had been silent for a long moment, when, finally, he croaked out, “yes.” “We can help each other,” Gerard reasoned, “I don't know what you're running from but if you'll give us information, we have a safe place that you can stay.” Mikey elbowed the elder brother in the ribs and Gerard responded in kind.

       Frank, however, pushed himself into a seated position, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Okay,” he agreed after a moment. Gerard could practically feel Mikey seething beside him. “You need to get some rest, Mikes,” Gerard directed, leaving no room for debate, “we have a long way to go in the morning.” Mikey looked like he had something to say, but at the last second seemed to remember his brother's earlier outburst and grumpily shuffled to one of the bedrolls Frank had lain out.

       Soon the bunker was filled with Mikey's quiet snores and yet, neither Frank nor Gerard could find sleep. Gerard laid in a bedroll between Frank and Mikey, his fists balled in his eyes, begging for rest to come. “You still up?” Frank whispered, startling him from his pleading thoughts. “Yeah, what's up?” Gerard replied suspiciously. “Is it… is it really safe where you're from?” Frank asked softly, almost disbelieving. “Well, there's still poison in the air and Mutes trying to kill you so…” Gerard answered thoughtfully.

       “No, I mean… your people… are they good?” Frank sounded unsure of himself, “are they nice?” Gerard thought of Billie tending their wounds and Brendon whittling them toys as children and couldn't help but smile. “They're the best,” he stated simply. Apparently this was enough to satisfy the elf-eared man because it seemed like only moments before his breaths deepened with sleep. Gerard's cozy thoughts of his makeshift fathers were enough to soothe his troubled mind and it wasn't long before, he too, drifted off.

       Gerard was surprised to find that despite the circumstances, he slept like a rock and woke reasonably refreshed. He had nightmares but at this point in his life, it was a par for the course. The trio wasted no time preparing their things upon awakening, and quickly set out into the city. Gerard lead the way, constantly on high alert. Frank had asked where exactly they were going but with little more than a glance Mikey insisted that he be told nothing for fear that he'd ditch them and tell their location to his people.

       Frank's experience as a courier seemed to come in quite handy. He appeared to know endless amounts of secret paths through the destroyed city, cutting their time considerably shorter. With his assistance, the three reached the outskirts in just a few hours. Gerard had to admit that he was impressed.

        His suspicions of the shorter man had all but dropped away, when they were set up on by a couple of Mutes. They appeared to be a male and female, naked as the day they were born. The female's bald scalp was covered with lesions and her hunched frame was held up by limbs that were far too thick and short. The male appeared to be growing an extra, useless arm from the side of his abdomen and his tongue lolled from the cavern where his jaw should have been.

        They were both far too lean and Gerard was already reaching for his machete, ready to make quick work of them. They babbled guttural, nonsensical words at them that meant nothing to their ears. Mikey brandished his bat and moved toward the male Mute. “STOP!” Frank shouted, freezing the brothers and the Mutes in their tracks. Gerard looked incredulously over his shoulder at him.

       “Look,” he demanded pointing off in the distance. Huddled in fear further back in the ruined landscape was a small Mute, deformed as ever but unmistakably a child. “They're just trying to protect their kid,” Frank informed them softly. The female squealed a sound of assent and the brothers lowered their weapons dubiously. “We mean you no harm,” Frank told the Mutes, his hands raised in surrender. He looked to the brothers and waved them forward, “come on.”

       They hesitantly started after him, watching the Mutes from the corner of their eyes. “Thank… you…” the male Mute called after them in a garbled voice, nearly stopping Gerard in his tracks. He'd never heard one of them speak before. Mikey looked from Frank to the Mutes, his eyes wide beneath his gasmask. Gerard wondered, not for the first time, just who Frank was and where he came from.

       Shortly after, the trio reached the edge of the lab's land. The brothers exchanged a look and took to reticently showing Frank how to bypass Brendon's series of traps and mines. “That's a nice setup,” Frank complimented as they reached the in-ground door to the underground lab.

       Once inside the airlock, Mikey sealed the door behind them and instructed Frank to deposit his pack on the decontamination conveyor with theirs. Once that was finished, Mikey hit a series of switches that activated the sterilization process. Gerard and Mikey held their arms straight out to the sides as they were barraged with water. Gerard reached out and placed a hand on Frank's shoulder to keep him from slipping as the water blasted his small frame. “You may want to hold your breath for this part,” Gerard warned as the water cut off. Frank barely had time to heed his advice before the doors on either side vacuum sealed and the air in the room became oppressively heavy. Despite the lack of heat, they could feel the water wringing from their clothes, taking the contamination with it.

        When, at last, the air returned to normal Frank gulped and gasped, looking at the brothers as if to ask, 'you do this everyday?’ “You get used to it,” Mikey told him with a chuckle. They lead Frank through the door at the end of the airlock. “We're home!” Gerard called after he had sealed the door behind them and they'd pulled their masks off. Frank's eyes gazed in awe around the lab, taking in all he could of the stained, white walls they stood within.

        Before any of them had time to say anything else, they were greeted by the thunderous sound of boots moving down the hall. “Where in God's name have you been?!” Brendon demanded, his thick brows arranged in a scowl as he approached, “do you have any idea how worried Billie has-” He stopped short a few feet away from them. His eyes instantly fell on Frank's small frame.

         Before the brothers could explain or protest, Brendon had surged between them and smashed Frank against the airlock door. He had produced a knife faster than any of them could see and held it pressed painfully to Frank's throat. His eyes held nothing but fury as he looked back and forth between Mikey and Gerard, “how could you bring a fucking stranger to our home?!”


	4. The Dinner

       The anger in Brendon's eyes was so palpable that Gerard took a fearful step back. “What the fuck are you thinking?” the older man demanded, knife still pressed to Frank's throat, “he could be a spy! He could be the end of us!” “I saved-” Frank started. Brendon pressed his knife harder into his throat and leveled his malevolent gaze on him. “I wasn't asking you!” he spat back. A drop of blood welled up beneath Brendon's blade and Gerard grabbed his shoulder at the sight.

      “Beebo, stop!” Gerard begged, attempting to pull him back. Brendon's eye softened for a moment at the sound of Gerard's childhood nickname for him. “You could have royally fucked us here, kid,” Brendon said, and Gerard realized behind the facade of anger laid a deep and tremendous fear. “He saved our lives,” Mikey cut in, surprising Gerard, “he shot at the raiders and gave us time to get away.” Brendon looked fascinated then and Gerard was relieved to see his grip on the knife slacken. “Like, with a bow and arrow?” Brendon inquired, his thick brows furrowed in confusion.

       “If you let me go, I'll show you,” Frank squeaked out from against the wall. Curiosity was too strong for Brendon to fight and he apprehensively stepped away. Frank winced as he wiped the blood from his neck and slowly began to open his jacket. His shotgun hung loosely from a makeshift holster at his hip. “That thing works?” Brendon inquired in amazement. Frank winked at him as he closed his jacket and stated simply, “oh, hell yeah.” Brendon began to chuckle only to be cut short by a hacking cough. The trio exchanged a concerned look, when he finally sat down.

       “Okay, so give me the rundown of what the hell happened out there,” Brendon demanded, gesturing for them to join him at the table. For the next ten minutes, the trio explained the situation of how Frank saves them and how he lead them to the bunker. Brendon began to look quite alarmed. “Who are your people?” the oldest man demanded, his eyes filling with renewed suspicion.

       “I don't-” Frank began, staring down at his hands. “I said, 'who are they?’ and I expect an answer,” Brendon commanded, slamming his hand on the table. Gerard felt for him as the slight man's expression filled with fear. “Th-the Dreamers,” Frank admitted softly. Gerard almost swore he saw tears brimming in his hazel eyes. A look of recognition dawned on Brendon's face.

       “They're one of the most powerful factions in the city,” Brendon stated incredulously, “why would you want to leave them?” “Wait, you know about them?” Mikey interrupted. Brendon and Frank ignored him as the latter admitted, “they… steal the Raiders’ resources and kill Mutes on sight and they're… making life worse for everyone in this city.”

        “What does that have to do with you?” Brendon interrogated obtusely, “what's the real reason?” “Look, man,” Frank snapped, “I'll tell you whatever else you want to know but that's the last I'll say on this matter and if you want me to leave because of it fine but I'm not just going to tell you my life story the day we meet.” Brendon didn't know whether to be offended or impressed. Gerard, however, was pretty impressed. Not even Billie talked to Brendon that way.

       “Calm down, kid,” Brendon said in a conciliatory way,” you can stay-” Just then Billie emerged from the hallway. “Who can stay?” Billie asked, raking back his curly hair in tufts. Just then his eyes fell upon Frank sitting at the table. “This one isn't gonna put a knife to my throat, too, is he?” Frank asked warily. Gerard couldn't stifle the laugh that bubbled out of his chest. Soon, Mikey and Brendon were laughing with him. Billie looked abashed, “hey! I'm fuckin’ tough!” The three only guffawed louder, much to Frank's confusion and Billie's annoyance.

       So, the young men once again rehashed their tale to Billie, who watched Frank with some distrust. “What do you think, Bren?” Billie asked, softly, when the boys had finished their story. Brendon appeared to be deep in thought for a moment. “Well, he did save these two idiots’ asses,” he gestured to Mikey and Gerard, who blushed deeply, “and based on what they've told us, his stealth skills could be pretty useful. I'm thinking he'll fit in nicely. What do you think?” Billie pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and tapped his fingers thoughtfully on his chin.

        “I don't trust him,” Billie admitted after a moment. Gerard and Frank's faces dropped, crestfallen. Even Mikey looked like he was about to protest. “But I do trust you guys,” Billie added,  smirking at his own dramatics. And it was settled. Soon, Billie and Brendon left them in the living area to prepare Frank's room and Mikey disappeared to have a shower.

       “So, I guess I should welcome you to the lab,” Gerard mumbled, he wasn't used to interacting with outsiders. Frank looked puzzled for a second. “Thanks, man,” Frank said, pulling his hat further over his ears despite the warmth of the wood burning stove, “but there's something bothering me.” “What is it?” Gerard inquired, secretly hoping for another peek at Frank's ears. “Where are the rest of your people?” the slight man asked, looking around, “it's seriously quiet down here.”

       “Oh,” Gerard looked embarrassed, “um, you've met them all. It's just the four of us.” Frank looked stunned for a moment. Without a word he stood up, grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder. Gerard started after him, “where are you going?” “Thanks for offer and everything, man, but I'm out of here,” Frank told him, starting for the airlock. Gerard grabbed his arm and turned him to face him, “why? What's the matter?”

       Frank rolled his eyes, “I saw how hard you guys were fighting and that you were well-fed and I started to hope that there really was a safe place to go.” “You are safe here,” Gerard told him earnestly, “there's not a guy here who wouldn't fight for you.” “That's nice and all, Gerard,” Frank replied, patting Gerard's hand patronizingly and Gerard couldn't help but blush at his touch, “but the place that I came from is dangerous. You guys are small potatoes compared to them. If they come after me, not only would I die but they'd kill you guys too.”

       With that, Frank shrugged him off and headed for the door. “Wait!” Gerard pled, desperation barely concealed in his face. Frank sighed and looked over his shoulder. “Look, we've avoided detection for years and years of because we're careful,” Gerard reasoned, “we may not have numbers but we have experience. I guess you can leave if you want but something tells me you don't want to be alone out there… and you certainly don't want to go back to the Dreamers.” Frank looked unconvinced but he was already lowering his bag to the floor. “Just give this place a shot,” Gerard begged, not ready to lose his new companion. He wasn't sure he could say he'd ever had a companion, outside his little family.

       “Okay, okay. I'll try it out,” Frank submitted, a smirk on his soft face. Before he could stop himself, Gerard had pulled Frank into tight hug. The short man stiffened against him and Gerard realizing his mistake, pulled away, his scarred face flushed a deep scarlet. “Why are you so pumped for me to stay?” Frank asked softly, his cheeks pinkened. Gerard shrugged. “I… think that you'll make a good asset to the team,” he muttered, staring at his feet. Frank rolled his eyes. Gerard looked him in the face and for the first time, Frank realized how dazzlingly green his eyes were. “And I… I think you're a pretty interesting guy,” Gerard admitted, scratching the side of his pixie nose, “I feel like, maybe, we could be friends.” That seemed to be enough for Frank.

       Later, when Frank was settling into his new room, Gerard pulled Brendon aside into the kitchen. “Beebo, there's something I have to tell you,” Gerard whispered urgently. “You're not pregnant, are you?” Brendon asked with a chuckle. He quickly noticed Gerard's serious expression and stilled. “What is it?” “When we were outside… there were some Mutes and they came up to us but Frank stopped us from killing them,” Gerard spilled out, “they… they had a kid and they were just trying to protect it and they let us go.” Brendon looked confused at where the conversation was going. “And as we were walking away… one of them… it… he thanked Frank,” Gerard concluded.

       Brendon looked shocked but to Gerard's surprise asked, “what's your point?” “What do you mean what's my point?” Gerard retorted incredulously, “I've never seen one talk and I've definitely never seen them walk away from a fight. This makes me question everything! How many times did we kill Mutes who were just trying to defend their homes? Can they be reasoned wi-” “Gerard!” Brendon scolded, startling the young man, “underestimating the Mutes is the biggest mistake you'll ever make. In the war, they gave as good as they got and-” “I know what you're going to say but this is new information, we can't just pretend we don't know and go on slaughtering them like they're not human!” “That is where you're wrong!” Brendon replied venomously, “do not mistake the remnants of language for humanity! They are monsters! They will kill you and not think twice about it!” “But they're-” Gerard began to argue. “I don't want to hear another word about this, Gerard!” Brendon all but shouted with finality. His breath was wheezing terribly from his chest as he walked away from Gerard.

       Dinner between Gerard, Mikey, Brendon, and Billie had never been awkward before but Frank's unexpected presence hung like a fog between them as they ate a small meal of Billie's lab grown tofu and cornbread. It was quiet, save for the scraping of forks against tin plates. Gerard could see Billie growing anxious in the heavy silence and knew it was only a matter of time before his thoughts burst out of him, desperate to fill the void. “It's times like this that I really miss record players,” Billie blurted out suddenly, “it's been over thirty years since I've heard Bowie-” “And that's thirty years too long,” Brendon finished with a giggle, “you always say the same thing when you're nervous.”

       “So, what'd you guys do before The Flare?” Frank inquired out of the blue, pushing his tofu back and forth on his plate. “Um, I was a cop for a couple of years,” Brendon explained, looking uncomfortable, “I ended up the as the head of security for the corporation that owned the lab.” Gerard was floored. He'd never heard any of this before. He just had never thought to ask before. Frank nodded as though satisfied and turned to Billie, who looked mortified.

       “I-I was a musician, before,” Billie confessed. Brendon moved to reach for him but stopped himself at the last second. “Bren was our-my neighbor,” Billie muttered, pulling at his hair. Suddenly, Frank began to laugh heartily. “What's so funny?” Mikey demanded sourly. “I'm… I'm sorry,” Frank apologized between chuckles, “I-I'm just surprised he made it this long.”

        Brendon's chair scraped deafeningly across the floor as he stood quickly, fuming. “We bring you into our home. We feed you, give you a place to sleep and you have the guts to come in here and insult my... Billie?” Brendon barked, his voice booming through the kitchen, “you're lucky I didn't slit your fucking throat and leave you for the Mutes to find, you little shit!” A wide-eyed Frank looked ashamed and he might have begun to apologize if Brendon hadn't broken out into an aggressive coughing fit.

       He gasped harshly between heaving, dry coughs. He began to sway on his feet and fell towards the floor. Billie jumped from his chair and caught him at the last second. He cradled the taller man's head in his lap. Brendon had broken out into a cold sweat and Billie pushed his hair from his forehead carefully. “I thought you said you were getting better,” Billie chided gently. Gerard was almost certain her saw tears in his surrogate father's green eyes. “I… lied,” Brendon admitted, stifling a cough.

       Before anyone could protest, Frank moved toward them, dropped to his knees and pulled his hat off, revealing his pointed ears. Despite the circumstances, Gerard was taken with the sight of his exotic Flaremark. “What the fuck are you doing?” Mikey called out, ready to go after him. Frank shushed him and paused, listening Brendon's breaths. He sat up and looked between the other men, his expression grim. “It's pneumonia,” he announced gravely.

       “Your ears are real pointy,” Brendon babbled incoherently, “are you an elf?” “H-he's burning up,” Billie told them, his hand pressed to Brendon's slick forehead, “pneumonia can… kill you, can't it?” Frank nodded, “it can turn into meningitis and spread to the brain. He needs antibiotics.” “Oh, is that all?” Mikey sniped. Gerard's heart dropped and he suddenly felt as though he were a helpless child. Their surplus of antibiotics had ran out years before and it was only by the grace of God that none of them had needed them until now.

       “I… I know where to get some,” Frank told them, looking uncomfortable. Brendon, in a moment of lucidity, screamed, “YOU ARE NOT TO GO THERE!” Billie shushed him and there was no questioning the tears streaking down his cheeks as Brendon's face went slack. There was no telling how long their leader had been hiding the severity of his illness. “We have no other choice,” Frank retorted, “you'll die.” “P-please, Frank,” Billie implored Frank, staring into Brendon's unfocused eyes. Frank nodded solemnly.

       “I'll leave in the morning, then,” Frank told them with a sigh. “We're going with you,” Gerard added, crossing his arms over his chest. If Billie had any protest, he didn't voice it as he pulled Brendon to his feet and lead him down the hall. The young men followed after them, the air heavy with melancholy.

       “Some strong leader you've got there,” Frank quietly chided with a roll of his eyes. Mikey looked ready to beat him bloody. “Please,” Gerard beseeched sorrowfully, “can you stop insulting people for ten seconds? Brendon is like my fucking father and he might die if we don't get this medicine.” Frank looked taken aback and his pointed ears pinkened with embarrassment. “I'm sorry,” Frank replied as they reached the door to his room, “I don't know what's gotten into me-” “Just… just save it, Frank,” Gerard interrupted and walked dejectedly to his room.

       None of the men rested easily that night. Frank laid awake feeling shame at his behavior toward the people who had taken him in and Gerard, on the other side of the hall, all but shook with the fear of losing Brendon. It did not help that, all through the night, Brendon could be heard coughing his wheezing cough and speaking feverish nonsense.

        In the morning, Mikey, Gerard, and Frank met wordlessly before the airlock after eating a quick meal of dry oats. Frank, properly chastened, looked as though he wanted again to apologize but the scowl on Gerard's face kept him from uttering a syllable. The three pulled their masks on, exchanged a nod and headed out into the destitute city.


	5. The Compound

       The trio slogged wordlessly through the soot blackened snow, the air between them thick with tension. It was an especially cold day with temperatures hanging around -35 degrees and the energy required to hold some semblance of pleasant conversation was more than they could spare. The razed land was blissfully silent other than their huffing breaths as they started toward the city.

       The three were making decent time as they crossed into city limits, that is, until Frank accidentally bumped shoulders with Mikey when ducking under a broken beam. It seemed the younger man's anger from the night before had coalesced into a massive heap that seethed out of him in that moment. “You know, if it weren't for the fact that we need you to help Brendon, I'd beat your fucking ass, right here and now,” Mikey growled, his gloved hands balled into fists.

       Frank chuckled humorlessly, “oh, please, we both know you'd just run and hide behind Gerard at the first sign of a fight.” “Come over here and find out,” Mikey dared, his face flushed with anger. “Alright, let's do this-” Frank began, stepping toward the younger man. “ENOUGH!” Gerard cut him off, “Brendon is laid up in bed, right now, so sick that he's hallucinating and all you two can think about is your stupid fucking egos. If you don't shut the fuck up and move, I'm going to kick the shit out of both of you.”

       Frank and Mikey's anger fizzled out and mortification took its place. Mikey's fists unballed and Frank returned to Gerard's side. With that, they started their long journey through the city.

       Even with Frank's shortcuts through the ruined city, the going became extraordinarily slow. They'd gotten almost a foot of snow overnight and with the exception of Frank, who was exceptionally light on his feet, they slipped and slid on layers of hidden ice below the snow’s surface.

       Gerard was exhausted by the time they reached the edge of the city and even Frank looked like he was ready for a nap. Mikey was prepared to ask how much longer they had to go when Frank grabbed he and Gerard and pulled them flush against a wall around the corner. “What the hell?” Mikey demanded, fighting against his grip. “What's going on, Frank?” Gerard inquired only slightly more calmly. He gestured for them to look in the direction they'd been headed.

       Gerard was amazed to see a small Mute child with a blackened, torn teddy bear clutched in it's claw-like hands. “Why did you pull us back?” Gerard found himself whispering. “I didn't want you to scare her,” Frank responded quietly, “or, you know, kill her.” Mikey looked disgusted at the small, deformed creature. Gerard, however, was ashamed that Frank had been right to worry. Just a day ago, they'd likely have killed her without a second thought.

       A little more than an hour had passed since their encounter with the baby Mute and they were much further into the city than either Gerard or Mikey had ever been. Gerard was surprised to find that the streets were cleaner in this part of the city and mostly unobstructed by debris. Paths had been even dug in the snow in some places, allowing for quicker travel. Gerard felt the way he imagined tourists had felt in Billie and Brendon's youth when visiting a new land.

       Frank, however, became more and more on edge as they went. His hand dropped instinctively to the shotgun in his coat and rested there as he scanned the area for threats. “Keep your guard up,” Frank warned, “we're nearly there.”

       “Stop here,” Frank instructed after a few minutes. He lead them into a small makeshift guard booth with slits just big enough to look out of. “What are we doing in here?” Mikey asked with distaste. “You're staying here and keeping watch,” Frank said taking his shotgun from his belt, “take this. If they catch me with it, I'm dead.” “Wait a minute, Frank,” Gerard urged as the slight man shoved the gun into his hands, “how are we supposed to help you?”

       “By not getting yourself killed,” Frank directed, as he turned to leave, “if by some chance I don't make it out… I'm sorry.” “How can we help you if we can't get to you?” Gerard called after him but Frank only closed the door upon them. “Gerard, you have to see this,” Mikey told him staring out the viewing port, awe in his voice. Gerard joined his brother and squinted to see through the slit in the wall.

       His jaw dropped as he watched Frank start toward an enormous brick building that could have been nothing except a former military base. The remnants of barbed wire fence surrounded the building, made even more threatening by its state of disrepair. The building had been mostly spared in a way not even the lab's exterior offices had been. Gerard's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Frank approach a large group of sentries in high-tech gas masks, armed with AK-47s.

       The short man approached with his hands raised in the air, in surrender. “Halt!” one of the sentries called, levelling his gun at Frank, “who goes there?” “Calm down, Burt,” Frank called in reply, “it's me.” Gerard was relieved to see the sentry lower his gun but his relief was quickly dismissed as the man surged forward and grabbed Frank by the arm.

       “We missed you around here, knife ear,” the sentry named Burt said mockingly, “it's been too long.” Frank made no attempt to shake his hand off, “would you believe me if I said that I got lost?” He winced as Burt's grasp on his arm tightened, “lucky for you, I'm not the one you have to answer to. Although I think Capo will be real happy to see you.” With that, they dragged him toward the entrance. As they reached the door, Frank chanced a quick glance in the direction of the booth and disappeared inside.

       “Well,” Mikey inquired, sitting against the wall of the booth, “what the hell do we do now?” For once, Gerard had no logical answer. “I-I guess we wait,” the older brother said, staring at the weapon in his hands. So wait they did. And wait. And wait. Soon the already dark grey sky was taking on the blackness of night and the brothers were growing anxious.

       “He's not coming back, Gerard,” Mikey stated, not for the first time, “we have to go. We've got to search something to help Brendon.” “Where do you suggest we look?” Gerard replied, rolling his eyes. “I-I don't know,” Mikey retorted nervously, “but we can't stay here. There are guards everywhere and Frank's not coming back.” “We're not just going to abandon him,” Gerard hissed in reply, “he's risking his life to-”

       The brothers were startled into silence by the sounds of the sentries’ uproarious laughter. They both moved to watch through the viewing port. Gerard's heart nearly lept out of his chest at the sight of Frank's crumpled body on the ground. “Frank!” he exclaimed, and stood to exit to booth. Mikey caught him by the wrist and pulled him back to his side. “You can't,” the younger brother admonished. And Gerard knew he was right but, still, his heartbeat pounded in his ears.

       He watched Frank push himself weakly to his feet. “Not so tough now, are you, knife ear?” one of the sentries' goaded. “This is what happens to lap dogs who run away from their masters,” sniped Burt, and Gerard cringed as he kicked Frank square in the side, sending the small man sprawling to the ground again.

       “Don't you guys have a circle jerk to get to or something?” Frank coughed back from the ground. One of the sentries' moved to kick Frank again as he rose unsteadily to his feet but Burt grabbed the man's arm. “Let him go,” Burt insisted, “let him crawl off with his tail between his legs and find some porch to die under.” Frank spared not another moment getting to his feet and limped his way off the compound grounds.

       As he rounded the corner, out of view of the sentries, Gerard and Mikey burst forth from the booth. Before he could stop himself, Gerard had grabbed Frank by the shoulders. “What happened, Frank?” he demanded, observing the black eye and bloodied nose Frank sported beneath his mask. Frank pulled back and began to dig in his jacket pocket. He came away with a large bottle marked ‘Macrolide.’ and a small bottle of what Gerard realized was cough syrup.

       “H-he did it,” Mikey stated, sounding quite impressed. “You bet your ass, I did,” Frank muttered and before Gerard knew what was happening Frank lost consciousness and slumped against his chest. “Frank!” Gerard exclaimed in alarm. Mikey moved to press his fingertips against Frank's throat. “His heartbeat is steady,” the younger brother reassured, “I think he's just passed out.” “W-what do we do?” Gerard asked, at a loss.

       So that was how it came to be that the brothers found themselves walking through the city, Mikey with his and Gerard's packs over his shoulders and Gerard with Frank's unconscious body draped over his, piggyback style. “He's so short, you'd think he'd be light,” Gerard complained, his back screaming in protest of the additional weight. “Maybe you're just weak,” Mikey teased with a chuckle, “want me to carry your boyfriend?” Gerard's cheeks were crimson under his mask as he squeaked, “you're fuckin’ gross.” It only made Mikey laugh harder.

       They could barely see where they were going in the darkness, relying on instinct to keep them going in the right direction. Gerard hoped that Frank would wake soon. The walk itself had him feeling like he could easily sleep for a week.

        “Look,” Mikey called, pointing to the remainder of the 3M warehouse, “we're almost home.” Before Gerard could feel any semblance of relief, he became all too aware of lots of heavy footfalls gathering behind them. “Can we catch a goddamn break for once?” Gerard hissed under his breath. He chanced a look over his shoulder and, sure enough, a line of raiders with torches were gathering and following after them. “You don't belong here!” one of them called. “You killed Jeremiah!” another shouted. “We're gonna show you how it feels,” the first voice called, “we gonna kill the short one and make you watch.”

       “Mikey, run!” Gerard screamed and broke into a sprint. Mikey could have easily passed him up but he stayed right by Gerard's side as they gave chase. Frank's body was like a lead blanket weighing Gerard down as he ran for his life but never once did he consider dropping him.

       “They're catching up!” Mikey yelled as they ran through the darkness. The raiders were steadily gaining on them, their battle cries echoing throughout the battered cityscape. The trio were not going to make it.

       Suddenly, Gerard and Mikey were snatched into the darkness mid step by something akin to tentacles. It took the brothers a moment to adjust to the darkness of the alcove but as they did Mikey began to reach for his bat. They were surrounded on all sides by Mutes of various sizes and deformities. “You fuckin’ freaks picked a bad night to-” Mikey started. One of the Mutes raised a gnarled finger to it's lips and shushed him.

       The pounding of boots on snow was deafening as the raiders passed by, still howling their battle cries. Gerard expected to be found at any moment and slaughtered along with these creatures he'd been taught to despise but after a moment the area fell silent. Frank groaned against Gerard's throat and without a second thought, Gerard reached up to soothe him.

       “W-why would you help us?” Gerard inquired of the huddled creatures. The Mute with tentacle-like hands shook his head. He reached over to tap Frank, “he… help us. We… help… him.” Gerard was amazed. Even Mikey was speechless despite looking incredibly uncomfortable.

       Frank began to stir, “w-where are we?” Gerard thought Frank might be fearful as he took in the Mutes around them but he continued to surprise him by giving the tentacled Mute a wave and saying, “oh, hey, dude.” Gerard cheeks burned as Frank slid down his back and landed on his feet behind him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Frank asked with a kind smile. Gerard allowed Mikey to fill him in on the raider situation while he waited for his blush to recede.

       “Those idiots can be the worst,” Frank said casually when Mikey finished. He turned to the Mutes, who were beginning to stoke a small fire at the end of the alcove. “I don't know how to thank you guys,” Frank told what Gerard began to assume was their leader, “we'd be toast right now if not for you guys.” He pulled his pack from his shoulders with a wince and the Mutes shrank back in fear.

       “No, no! It's okay,” Frank assured them, and lifted a large bag of dried meat strips from his pack. He pressed the bag into the Mute leader's “hands” and the creature looked down at it, a puzzled expression in his large, yellowed eyes. “What… this?” the Mutes asked nervously. “It's food, man,” Frank explained, demonstrating taking a bite of a piece, “you eat it.” Gerard couldn't help be jealous.

        The brothers couldn't help but feel somewhat repulsed when the leader's too wide lips pulled back in a semblance of a smile. With that, Frank thanked them a final time and the trio set out once again. “Don't worry,” Frank whispered to Gerard with a wink, “I have more in my bag.” Gerard was hopelessly pleased.

       Soon the three were dropping their freshly decontaminated bags at the side of the airlock and hanging their masks upon the wall. Billie Joe rushed to meet them at the end of the hall. “I gave him some ibuprofen for his fever-” the older man started, his hair looking more unkempt than ever. His eyes fell upon Frank's battered face and his words died off. “Are you okay?” his asked, reaching out to grab his chin and inspect his face. Frank looked uncomfortable but he didn't resist.

       “I feel like I've been chewed up and spit out,” Frank admitted when Billie concluded his inspection, “but we got the medicine.” He produced the bottles from his jacket pocket. “Have him take two of the Macrolide a day and the cough medicine every six hours,” Frank instructed, passing the medicine into Billie's hands. Billie didn't hesitate to pull the smaller man into a tight hug. Frank winced in pain and Billie pulled away apologetically.

       “We better took a look at your other injuries,” Billie told him, dropping the medicine into his own pocket. Frank waved him off, “I can wait a bit. You better get that stuff to Brendon as soon as possible.” Billie nodded gratefully and turned to leave. “Hey, Billie,” Frank called after him. The bespectacled, older man looked expectantly over his shoulder. “I'm sorry for what I said,” Frank admitted, scratching the back of his neck. It was Billie's turn to wave him off, “you wouldn't be the first to underestimate me.”

       Frank had disappeared into his room a short while after and Gerard found himself outside his door with a wet rag, bottle of “clean” water, and a couple of ibuprofen in hand. He gave the door a quick knock. “Come in,” Frank called from the other side. Gerard pushed his way inside and froze.

       Frank sat on the edge of his bunk, his shirt and hat discarded on the floor. Gerard's eyes betrayed him as they instantly fell upon Frank's slim, pale stomach. Caught in a similar situation, Gerard would have quickly covered up but Frank just smiled and asked, “what's up?” There was a nasty bruise along his side where Burt had kicked him and blood dried below his nostril.

       “I, uh, thought you might want some ibuprofen to help with the pain,” Gerard explained, forcing himself to avert his eyes. “Thanks, man,” Frank said kindly, “what's the rag for?” “Oh,” Gerard said feeling shy, “it's for the blood.” “Cool. Come here,” Frank instructed, much to Gerard's surprise. The smaller man patted a spot on the bed and Gerard reluctantly shut the door and sat beside him, trying not to be aware of either his dainty, pointed ears or the dark line of hair trailing from his navel down. He failed at both.

       Frank looked expectantly at Gerard as he passed him the water and pills. “What are you looking at me like that for?” Gerard asked, his scarred cheeks burning. “Aren't you gonna clean the blood up for me?” Frank replied with a smirk, “I can't see it myself.” ‘This little fucker,’ Gerard thought haughtily, 'he knows exactly what he's doing!’

       Gerard rolled his eyes as Frank took the pills and chased them with a swig of water. There was a shallow cut over his collarbone and Gerard began to coyly dab it with the cloth. Frank hissed and Gerard wasn't sure if it was from the pain or from his touch. A dark part of him hoped it was the latter. “What happened in there, Frank?” Gerard inquired for the first time. Gerard thought he saw a little panic in his eyes but it was quickly replaced with a smile. “Nothing worth talking about,” Frank replied obstinately.

       Gerard rolled his eyes and moved to wipe the blood from his face. He leaned forward to see what he was doing more clearly, or so he told himself. They suddenly locked eyes and Gerard froze mid swipe. “Am I crazy?” Frank asked vaguely. “It's too soon to tell,” Gerard replied with a chuckle, quickly wiping the rest of the blood from Frank's nose. He didn't make a move to scoot away, however.

       “No, I mean… you are into me, aren't you?” Frank inquired softly, the tips of his ears turning red. Gerard's heart thumped in his chest in response, which was answer enough. “We… we just met,” Gerard reasoned, wetting his lips, “we barely know each other.” “Life is short,” Frank retorted, his gaze levelled on Gerard's mouth, “either of us could have died today. Could die tomorrow. This isn't really the kind of world where you deny yourself the things that bring you joy.”

       Gerard's little heart sang at the idea that he brought Frank some kind of joy and though his attraction for another man raised questions he'd never thought to ask himself, he, in that moment, deemed them unnecessary. He could find no real argument why he shouldn't be drifting closer and closer to Frank.

       Frank dropped his hand upon Gerard's and moved toward him. They were so close Gerard could smell the carbon on his breath and see the sweat glistening on his forehead. He couldn't deny to himself that he wanted this. He closed his eyes and their lips were mere centimeters from meeting. “Okay, let take a look at some boo boos,” Billie barged in with a chuckle.

       Billie had never seen two people spring so far apart in so little time. “I can come back later!” Billie exclaimed, not without amusement. Gerard stood abruptly. “I was just leaving,” he called out, blushing furiously as he pushed his way passed Billie. After a quick examination, Billie determined that Frank had fractured a couple of ribs. He taped them and told Frank he'd be out of commission for at least two weeks.

        Gerard, meanwhile, sat in a ball in his bed, his scarred face pressed into his pillow. He wondered what had compelled him to nearly kiss this perfectly strange man and why he felt so disappointed at having been interrupted before it could happen. He couldn't make sense of the way Frank was already making him question everything he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have classes the next couple days so I won't be able to stay up and write but I'll be back Thursday night/Friday morning with a new chapter. Hope you're enjoying it!


	6. The Swing Set

       The next two weeks passed in a somewhat routine fashion. Brendon's fever was gone and his cough was steadily receding. He was still weak but he was back on his feet and growing stronger with every passing day.

       Frank, however, was exceeding expectations and it seemed that in addition to his complimentary Flaremark, he also had the capability to heal a little more quickly than normal. By the time three days had passed, his bruised ribs were yellowed with healing.

       Since the night of the compound, Gerard had been avoiding being alone with Frank, so naturally he was frazzled that seemingly every morning he found Frank, shirtless in the living area, doing crunches. The lab wasn't exactly large so keeping his distance wasn't always easy. Gerard had decided that night that the risk involved was just too great to allow himself to succumb to Frank's charms.

       Frank was still all but a stranger to him. And he kept too many things secret to really know much about his life or what made him the way he was. Frank could be mercurial and downright cruel at times. But he also seen that Frank could be kind and loyal and he respected him, but to him, that wasn't a good enough reason to kiss a guy. He knew how to tempt Gerard though and he didn't hold back.

        During the two weeks that Billie and Brendon kept them under lockdown, Frank had abandoned his toboggan after Gerard's admission of attraction towards his ears. And it could hardly be a coincidence Frank appeared at Gerard's door late one night, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and his skin glistening with water droplets. “Do you have a hair brush?” the smaller man inquired, smiling innocently. Gerard slowly closed the door without a word, his face hot and his pants growing tight.

       Needless to say, it had been a long couple weeks before Brendon called a meeting in the living area. “Okay, so I know you're all itching to get back out there,” he began as the young men sat across from him at the table, “if it were up to me, I'd keep you inside for at least a month after that stunt Frank pulled.” Frank just shrugged, “I got the job done, didn't I?” “You did,” Brendon conceded with a sigh, “and I expect you'll do the same today.”

       The young men about burst from their seats with happiness. “Calm down, you heathens,” Brendon chided, a smile playing on his lips, “it's not a huge deal but Billie needs a new pair of garden shears… though I couldn't see anything wrong with the old ones, so I suspect he's just taking pity on you three.” He pulled out an old hand drawn map that was worn and yellowed with years of use.

       He pointed to the southeastern corner of the map, “it's been a while since I've been out but last I checked, there were the remains of a pretty large garden supply store around here. See what you can find there.” The trio were already pushing out of their seats. “Wait,” Brendon called softly, “be careful today. There's no reason to go near the compound but do not let your guard down.” The men nodded respectfully. “And please,” Brendon added with a smirk, “no more strays… No offense, Frank.” “None taken,” Frank replied with a chuckle.

       Just then Billie popped his head around the corner. “Hurry back, guys,” Billie directed, pushing his glasses up his nose, “the tomatoes are ready and I need your help, Frank.” Over those last two weeks, whether out of guilt for what he had said or because he was genuinely interested, Frank had taken to assisting Billie with their hydroponic crops. Billie seemed quite pleased to have a pupil to pass his knowledge onto. Frank nodded happily and they adjourned to prepare for their journey.

       Later, the trio dug through the wreckage of the garden supply shop, happy just to be outside of the cramped lab. “Are these the right ones,” Mikey called holding a long pair of sheers over his head. “No, those are hedging shears,” Frank explained with a laugh, “we need bypass shears, they're small with hooked blades.” “Like these?” Gerard asked, presenting him with a small set of shears. Frank grinned widely beneath his mask.

       “Those are the ones,” Frank affirmed, taking the shears from him and placing them in his pack. “Already?” Mikey griped, headed toward them, “we just got here.” “I know,” Gerard complained, with a stretch, “who knows how long it'll be before we need to go out like this.” Frank looked thoughtful for a second. “Want to see my favorite place in the city?” the small man asked at last. The brothers were too curious to say no.

       They made their way deeper into the city, despite Brendon's warnings. “You're going to love this,” Frank said to Gerard as he lead them around a corner. Frank was right. He did love it. It was probably the most breathtaking sight Gerard had ever taken in. It was a playground. The slide was crumpled in a blackened heap. The jungle gym was a twisted mash akin to the venomous teeth of a monster. The seesaw was shattered into razor shards spread across the ground. But among this dilapidated wreck of a park sat a perfectly intact, metal swing set.

       “How?” Mikey asked in awe. Frank shrugged and started toward it. Mikey and Gerard stood for a moment taking in the perfection within the destruction, their jaws held slack with incredulity. They jogged to Frank's side and as he reached the swings. “Is it safe?” Gerard inquired softly, watching Frank dust the snow from a seat. Frank shrugged again and sat down. The brothers exchanged a look and followed suit.

       “How do you do this?” Gerard asked, his gloved hands wrapped around the rusted chains. “You pull back and let go,” Frank explained, demonstrating, “kick your legs out as you go forward and pull them in as you move backwards. Then you let momentum carry you.” Gerard followed his instructions and was pleased to feel the wind blowing his hair back as he was thrust forward.

       Soon, the three were swinging so hard the antiquated frame was squealing in protest. “Is this safe?” Gerard called out as momentum carried him back and forth, “should we slow down?” “Live dangerously!” Frank replied, his cheeks pink with exertion, “give me your hand.” “I'll fall,” Gerard retorted warily as he sailed through the air. “Trust me!” Frank insisted, his hand out as he and Gerard plunged forth. Gerard thought about it for a moment before reaching out and slapping his palm into Frank's.

       Frank squeezed his hand and the swings pulled them toward one another for a moment and Gerard was certain that he really was going to fall and take Frank with him but at the last second, they corrected themselves and resumed forward motion. It was exhilarating. He clasped Frank's hand tighter as they flew back, too enthralled to be embarrassed at the contact. The trio laughed in a way that could only be described as childlike as they partook in an innocent act that, in the time before The Flare, would have been entirety ordinary but to these boys, it was anything but. Gerard had never felt so free.

       As they started home, Mikey, Gerard, and Frank wore smiles plastered on their faces. Gerard never felt entirely carefree but this was the closest he ever got. For one moment, he could ignore the blackened sky, the ravaged city, and the lack of clean air. For one small moment, rather than feeling like the end of world, it had felt as is the world was brand new, like a newborn, pink and unscathed by poisonous air. Gerard was certain that it was the best day of his life.

       The air, as the boys made their way home, was light. Even Mikey and Frank, who usually kept to a tense truce at best, were joking with one another. It was only -15 degrees outside that day but for them, they could pretend that the sun had pierced the thick, black clouds and graced them with warmth upon their shoulders. That is until Frank paused mid joke and gestured for the brothers to fall silent. “What is it?” Gerard whispered, his hand on his machete. “Don't freak out,” Frank retorted quietly, “but we're being followed.”

       Gerard sighed aloud. “I have a plan,” Frank added. Soon, the three started forward again, trying to imitate the boisterous happiness that they no longer felt. After a moment, Mikey split off from the group and crouched beside the destroyed remains of a car. Gerard was worried but Frank patted his shoulder reassuringly, knowing that he needed to learn to trust in Mikey's abilities. 

     A few minutes had passed of Frank and Gerard talking louder than necessary in attempt to draw the follower out of hiding before a loud crash sounded out behind them. “Hurry,” Mikey called out from a distance away, “I've got him!” Gerard and Frank exchanged a glance and ran in the direction they came from.

       They found Mikey struggling to keep the spy pressed against the wall. “Stop moving, you son of a bitch,” Mikey demanded through gritted teeth. “Get out of the way, Mikey,” Frank directed and levelled his shotgun at the spy. “F-Frank,” the man said in a high voice, “don't shoot! It's me!” Recognition dawned on Frank's face and he lowered his gun, “R-Ray?”

        “You know this guy?” Mikey growled, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. “We used to work together,” Frank replied, tentatively, “he's a courier.” “Who the hell are these guys?” Ray asked, eyeing Mikey with apprehension. “I'm Gerard,” he gestured to his brother, “this is Mikey.” Ray's jaw dropped. “You're them… You're my-” Ray started.

       “So, wait a minute,” Frank interrupted, fiercely, “why the hell are you following me?” Gerard and Mikey exchanged a suspicious glance. “I… I was tasked with finding out where you've been,” Ray admitted, looking uneasy, “he wants you to come back… for good.” “Fat fuckin chance,” Frank retorted venomously. “We can't let him tell anyone about the lab, Frank,” Gerard told the smaller man, taking a threatening step towards Ray.

       “Let's be reasonable about this, guys,” Ray replied, his brown eyes wide beneath his mask. Frank looked uncertain but Mikey was already grabbing Ray by the arms. Just then, glass exploded on either side of them. “Molotovs!” Gerard yelled out as fire spread the blackened ice, “run!” Soon, the trio along with Ray were ducking through wreckage, Raiders hot on their tails. It was a small band of only five men but they were quick.

       A small male broke apart from the group and caught ahold of Mikey's shoulder, a large blade in hand. He raised the knife, ready to plunge it into Mikey's throat. Before Mikey could so much as wince, an arrow struck the man in the eye and he collapsed, screaming. “Come on,” Ray screamed at him, his bowstring pulled taut. He sent another arrow sailing into the chest of a female raider as Mikey ran past.

       “We've got to lose them!” Frank screamed as the last remaining three pursued them, “turn right here. We've gotta climb!” They turned a corner and came upon a rickety, makeshift ladder against a tall pile of rubble blocking the way. Frank took the lead and began to ascend as quickly as he could. Gerard followed soon after. Mikey and then Ray were the last up as the raiders chased behind them. One raider managed to grab Ray by the ankle.

        Ray screamed and tried to shake him off, to no avail. Just then, Mikey leaned down and swung his bat, striking the raider’s shoulder and sending him to the ground with a sickening thud. “Thanks!” Ray called out as they reached the top. “I owed you one,” Mikey retorted, panting with exertion. The raiders were half way up the ladder. “What do we do now?!” Gerard asked Frank, panicking. “This,” Frank responded and grabbed the sides of the ladder. He heaved forward and pushed the ladder away from the rubble and watched as the raiders fell with a shriek and then were quiet. The four stared over the edge, in shock. “That was pretty badass,” Ray complimented, quietly. “It took me two weeks to get enough screws to build that ladder,” Frank griped as they began to descend the other side.

       “So, what do we do with him?” Mikey asked far less aggressively than before. Ray looked wary. “Um… maybe we should take him back with us?” Frank suggested with a shrug. “What the hell for?” Gerard asked incredulously. “Because I trust him… he's my best friend,” Frank admitted, “if we send him back into the city now, the raiders will be all over him.” Gerard and Mikey didn't look convinced but, after all, Ray had saved Mikey's life.

       “We're trusting you with our lives, Ray,” Gerard reminded Ray for the third time, as they stepped into the airlock. When they stepped out on the other side, Brendon was seated, reading a worn copy of 'Paradise Lost’ for approximately the 30th time, a pair of reading glasses sitting on his prominent nose. “What took so long?” he asked the young men, wetting his finger in preparation to turn the page. When no one spoke, he looked up at them over the edge of his glasses.

        He stood up with a start at the sight of Ray. “Not again,” he said weakly and sat down hard. “Billie!” Gerard called out, moving to Brendon's side. Brendon mumbled under his breath as Billie ran into the room. “What is it?” Billie asked before his eyes fell upon Ray, “didn't we say no strays?” “Brendon, are you okay?” Gerard asked as Billie pulled their leader to his feet. “You damned kids are going to be the death of me,” he griped as Billie lead him to his room. “You'd better have a good explanation for this,” Billie called over his shoulder and shook his head, “almost thirty years with no outsiders and then two in a month.”

       “So, Capo sent you?” Billie asked Ray, pulling at his greying, black hair so hard, Gerard was afraid he'd start pulling it out. Ray nodded reluctantly. “Yeah and I agreed to do it because I thought I could convince him to come back but I didn't know all facts then,” Ray admitted, scratching at his curly, unruly hair. “What's changed?” Gerard asked incredulously. Ray didn't meet his eyes as he said, “Frank was willing to kill his best friend to protect you… and you guys are saving my ass just by letting me be here.”

       Billie grew suddenly serious. He half flung himself across the table and grabbed Ray by the collar. “If you fucking betray us, I will find you and I will cut your balls off and shove them down your fucking throat,” he threatened in an act of anger unlike any Mikey or Gerard had ever seen. “I-I won't,” Ray squealed, fearfully. “You won't what?!” Billie demanded, letting his glasses slide down the edge of his nose. “I won't betray you! I won't tell anyone about this place!” Ray assured, as Billie's green eyes bored into him. Billie suddenly smiled and released him, satisfied. “You boys must be hungry,” the older man said, as though nothing had happened, “I'll go get dinner ready.”

       After an awkward dinner, for which Brendon stayed in his room, the young men met in front of the airlock. “Meet me at that old bunker in seven days,” Frank told Ray, carefully. Ray nodded. He hadn't said much since Billie's threat. “Will you be okay?” Frank asked him, his eyes filled with concern. “Yeah, the raiders should be gone by now,” Ray replied, pulling his gas mask over his face. That hadn't been what Frank meant but he let it drop as he and Ray exchanged a complicated handshake and the curly haired man stepped into the airlock.

       Later that night, Frank stood in the hydroponic garden picking tomatoes alongside Billie. “Frank, can you grab that book for me?” Billie asked, wielding the bypass shears, “some of these are a little discolored. I want to double-check something.” Frank nodded and grabbed the gardening instruction manual from a nearby table. He was crossing the room, book in hand, when something slipped from between the pages and fluttered to the ground.

        He bent over and picked it up without looking. “This fell out,” he told Billie passing the book and the photo. “Oh, I haven't seen this in years,” Billie told him, looking down at the photograph, “it's me, Bren, Don… Gee and Mikey's dad, when we were younguns.” Frank stood speechless as he peered over Billie's shoulder. For the man standing in the middle, with his arm around Billie and Brendon's shoulders, was none other than the man Frank had been taught to fear. It was Capo.


	7. The Painful Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of non-con

       It had been strange week for the lab dwellers. The usually overly masculine Brendon was still quite weak from his bout with pneumonia and wasn't used to being doted on the way Billie had been doing. Since Billie and Frank had harvested the tomatoes, Brendon had been forced to consume so many bowls of chunky tomato soup that he was sure if he ate another bowl, it would come pouring from his ears. But from years of observation, Gerard could see that he was secretly pleased.

       Gerard couldn't help but feel anxious though. Each day since Ray's arrival into their lives, Gerard had expected the Dreamers to come knocking down their door but the days passed and no such intervention on their “happy” lives came. He knew though that he wouldn't be appeased until Ray met with them again and proved his allegiance to Frank.

       As a secondary source of anxiety, Frank had been avoiding Gerard like he was covered contagious Flare Flu sores. It perplexed him deeply. That day at the swing set, it seemed like they were both closer to letting their guard down and he wasn't sure when that had changed. After three days of short answers and leaving so as not to be in the same room as him, Gerard had given up on the idea of growing closer to Frank.

       Frank felt as though he was being tortured which was pretty bad considering he'd actually been tortured before. He liked Gerard. He liked the graceful way he brandished his machete. He liked how protective he was over his little family. And he liked the way his scarred cheeks flushed when he touched him. But he couldn't seem to get past the fact that he was his son.

       It was hard to believe. They were like night and day, Capo and Gerard. Where Capo was closed-mind, Gerard was open and eternally curious. Where Capo was crass and calloused, Gerard was tender hearted and kind to those who deserved it. But if he had any doubts, the photograph in the garden dashed them away. He wanted to work past it but he just wasn't sure how.

       On the day of their intended meeting with Ray, the trio stood before the airlock doors pulling on their packs and gas masks. Gerard and Frank made a point of placing Mikey as a barrier between them. “Hopefully there'll be no fire bombs today,” Mikey said in a jovial tone. When he was rewarded with no response from the other parts of their little troop, he grew puzzled. “What's wrong with you two?” he asked as they stepped into the airlock, “did you have a fight or something?” Gerard and Frank shook their heads, both too preoccupied with their thoughts to give an explanation.

       Mikey was at a loss as they made their way to the bunker. He wasn't used being the one trying to stop others from brooding. He thought perhaps that was why his jokes fell on deaf ears. Eventually, with a sigh, he, too, lapsed into uneasy silence.

       “How long do you think it'll take for him to get here?” Mikey asked Frank as they sat their bags down inside the darkened bunker. “Somewhere after noon,” Frank informed him, his voice croaking with disuse, “that's usually when the couriers get their tasks.” With that, the smaller man resumed his quiet contemplation and lit several emergency candles.

       He pulled a deck of old, worn cards and dealt a hand to each of them. The game was Texas Hold 'Em and even professional matches had never been conducted in such a tense demeanor. And so began their wait.

       Noon came and passed and the trio left their game to the wayside. Frank laid reading one of Billie's gardening book by candlelight. Gerard had found the ragged stumps that remained of his childhood chalk and was sketching a playground scene on the concrete before him. Mikey, however, dozed nervously in and out of sleep. He hated to be the bearer of bad news but every hour, on the hour, he told Frank and Gerard, “I don't think he's coming.”

       So, naturally, no one was more surprised than Mikey when the airlock opened with a pop, around 3:15, and Ray staggered in. “What the hell took so long?” Frank asked after Ray had sealed the door and turned his back to remove his mask. Any further inquiries Frank had died in his throat when Ray turned to face them.

       Ray had been beaten bad and though the wounds were days old, they were still swollen and disturbing to look at. He had an ugly split down the center of his lip that was made only more menacing by the candles’ dim glare. Both of his eyes were purple with bruising and his cheek had a deep gash along one side, that had been badly sewn by some amateur. Frank burst to his feet, seething with anger.

       “He did this, didn't he?” Frank growled, moving to examine Ray's face. “Who did?” Gerard asked, fearing the answer. “Capo,” Ray responded weakly, pushing Frank's prodding hands away. “B-but why?” Mikey inquired fiercely. “H-he really wanted Frank to come home,” Ray replied, sitting with his knees to his chest.

       “You didn't say anything, did you?” Gerard asked warily. “He wouldn't look like this if he had,” Frank snapped at him. Gerard rolled his eyes and redoubled his attention on his chalk drawing. “Why would he target you, specifically?” Mikey inquired gently. Ray looked vulnerable. “He's kind of my step dad,” Ray answered to the brothers’ surprise, “he married my mom when I was like seven or eight and he's been making mine, Frank's and pretty much else's lives miserable ever since.”

       “Why Frank?” Gerard demanded, feeling protective of the smaller man, despite his silent treatment. Ray and Frank exchanged a look before Frank gave a begrudging nod. “My dad died when I was pretty little,” Frank started, so quietly the others had to move closer to hear him, “my mom was real sick all the time and Ray and I had been best friends since we were still pissing our pants, so his mom, Barbara, being the complete fucking angel she is, helped take care of me. “Capo showed up when were too little to even remember and was steadily working his way through the ranks and eventually became the second in command to our old leader, Patrick. And when I was, like, ten or eleven, Patrick died of 'mysterious’ circumstances and Capo took over. He immediately zeroed in on Barbara and demanded over and over that she marry him.”

        “He was too powerful to deny for long,” Ray added, staring dejectedly at the floor. “And I didn't think much of it at first,” Frank explained, his jaw tensed, “I'd heard rumors about him cutting off trade with the raiders and that he'd commanded that the Mutes be shot on sight but we were still kids, we hadn't even been recruited as couriers yet. “Then, for whatever reason, he became obsessed with me. At first, it was innocent stuff. He'd bring me gifts from outside and sneak me extra bread at dinner and stuff.”

       Gerard was alarmed to see tears brimming in Frank's eyes. He wanted desperately to comfort him but something told him that he was the last person that Frank wanted consolation from. He clasped his hands tightly together to keep them from moving on their own accord.

       “Then it got worse when I hit puberty and he never,” Frank paused and swiped away tears that had forced their way down his cheeks, “raped me… but he would touch me.” Gerard was suddenly filled with an anger so burning hot, that he felt like he may burst into flames at a moment's notice. “He'd… force me to touch him,” Frank sniffled helplessly, “and I let it go on for far too long.”

       Ray scooted up beside Frank and patted his back. “A couple of years ago, he tried… to,” sobs began to rip from Frank's throat, “I fought back. I stopped him. I ripped my fucking nails across his face and he let me go. And… I thought that I had proven that I wasn't easy prey and for awhile he left me alone… but he was biding his time.” Gerard's eyes prickled with his own unshed tears.

       “Last year, I woke up to my mom screaming,” Frank told them, his voice broken, “they ripped her from her bunk and forced her out of the airlock with no mask on. I tried to stop them but that cocksucker, Burt, he held me back and laughed. The only fucking mercy was that she died of dehydration before radiation sickness could turn her into a fucking mass of cancerous boils. And the fucking sentries just watched. For three days they watched her breathe in toxic fucking poison and beg for just one glass of water. “They dumped her body in a fucking pile of rubble like she was fucking nothing! She was my mom! She protected me! She was everything to me and I found her a week later discarded like she was fucking trash!”

       Frank was all but wailing then, making no attempt to hide the tears that poured down his face. “I've been trying to find a place to go since then,” Frank admitted, hanging his head, “I even tried to join the raiders but their leader called me a 'compound rat’ and sent me away. So, I stole some supplies and holed up in a few different places I'd found in the city, only going back in for short amounts of time to get food. I'd rather fucking starve to death, though, then ever face him again.”

       “Was he the one who beat you?” Mikey asked Frank, sounding as angry as Gerard felt. Frank nodded solemnly. “Barbara is a nurse and she convinced him to let her treat me but as soon as we were out of ear shot, I ran before he could lock me away,” Frank replied gingerly. “You have to come with us,” Gerard urged Ray, “we can keep you safe.”

       “I-I can't,” Ray sputtered, “he… has my mom. He's got her locked up. And he'd have had me stuck there too, if I hadn't bribed a couple sentries with stuff from the outside.” “So, what do we do?” Mikey demanded, his hands clenched into a fist, “we can't just do nothing!” “We take him down,” Frank and Gerard declared at the same time. They both flushed with embarrassment and Frank couldn't help but wonder if Gerard would feel the same way if he had knwn it was his father who had done these things. But when he met Gerard's eyes, they were filled with defiant determination and Frank knew that he would. He realized, finally, that Gerard was nothing like Capo.

       “How the hell are we supposed to do that?!” Ray exclaimed, “It's four of us- six if your guys’... parents decide to help, against Capo, all his sentries, his guards, and his official police force within the compound. They'll pulverize us.” “You're right,” Frank affirmed, wiping away his tears, “we're going to need help.” “Where do we start?” Gerard asked eagerly.

       “The Mutes and the raiders,” Frank explained simply. The other young men looked at him as though he'd grown another head. “H-how the hell are we supposed to get them to help us?” Mikey inquired incredulously, “the raiders pretty much never stop trying to kill us!” “And the Mutes don't trust us either,” Gerard added, reminded of their past experiences.

        “The Mutes trust me,” Frank tried, “I've been helping them in small ways for years and I think they'll at least hear me out.” “And the raiders?” Ray provided, unconvinced. “That's another matter entirely,” Frank divulged, “their leader Kalah is ruthless. She's only twenty-four but she has control of the entire faction of raiders in the city. She's a brutal fighter and so brute strength is the only thing she respects. “When I sought shelter with them, she turned me down immediately because of my gun. She told me to come back when I was ready to fight with the big boys. But she may be convinced to at least meet with us if we can prove ourselves to her.”

       Ray and the brothers were skeptical but they realized it was essentially down to trying to get the divided factions to fight on their side or admitting defeat. They four agreed to meet again the next day to formulate a plan then divide and conquer. As they were leaving the bunker, Ray gestured for Frank to fall back behind the brothers.

       “You know, don't you?” Ray whispered discreetly, “about Gerard and Mikey?” Frank gave the brothers are prudent glance before admitting, “they're your step brothers.” “Are you going to tell them?” Ray queried, “will they still help us?” “They deserve to know. I'm gonna tell them soon,” Frank opined, “they'll back us up.”

        That night, after dinner, Mikey, Gerard and Frank sequestered themselves in Frank's room discussing their plans for winning the trust of the Mutes and Raiders, in hushed voices, know that sooner or later they'd have to clue Billie and Brendon in. “Okay, so with that said,” Frank concluded, “I say we stick with me and Gerard meeting with the Mutes and you and Ray trying to get a meeting with Talah.” Mikey nodded nervously, not eager at the thought of having to fight just to get a meeting that may not not even amount to anything. With that, the brothers rose to leave.

       “Gerard, can you hang back for a minute?” Frank called as he reached the door. Mikey gave Gerard an amused look and rolled his eyes. “Go,” Gerard snarked at his brother, “your face is annoying me.” Mikey chuckled and closed the door behind him.

       “So you're done avoiding me, I guess,” Gerard muttered, staring down at his holey socks. “Well, duh,” Frank replied with a shit eating grin, “I'm standing right in front of you.” Gerard gave his shoulder a playful shove and laughed, “you know what I mean, after what happened the other night… I thought you were having regrets.” Gerard became bashful then.

        Frank gestured for Gerard to sit beside him on the bed and he reluctantly moved to do so. “I could never regret that,” Frank said softly when Gerard took his place beside him. “You know,” Gerard admitted, trying to avoid Frank's piercing gaze, “I don't even think I'm gay.” Gerard was surprised to hear Frank respond, “um… neither am I.” Gerard gave him a puzzled expression.

        “I'm not attracted to genders,” Frank explained earnestly, “I'm attracted to people. I'm attracted to you.” Gerard suddenly became aware of the webbing of scarring on his cheek and he felt like he was being tricked. “Yeah, right,” he retorted, meeting Frank's hazel stare, “as if someone could actually be attracted to me.”

       Gerard was startled by the gentle sensation of Frank's warm palm on his scarred cheek, “because of this?” Gerard tried to turn away but Frank pulled his chin until he met his eyes again. Frank's expression was usually shy as he said, “I'd like to think that people's Flaremarks don't define them.”

       Gerard zeroed in Frank's gracefully pointed ears and became inexplicably flustered. Before he could stop himself, Gerard found that he was blurting out, “I don't know what you're trying to imply but your ears are beautiful.” Frank looked at him a little doubtfully at him but placed his hands on either side of Gerard's face.

       “And so are you,” Frank replied, his voice dripping with sincerity, “but that's not why I like you… You're tough. You're thoughtful. You're funny as hell without even trying. And I know that you weren't lying when you said you'd die for anyone here… I like you, Gerard.” Frank looked as though he had more to say but before he could Gerard had grabbed him by the shoulders. 'I have to do this now,’ Gerard thought, 'before I lose my nerve.’

       And then he was surging forth, pressing his lips to Frank's. Frank stilled against him for a moment and Gerard feared he'd made a grave mistake but then Frank was hungrily kissing him back. All thought evaporated from Gerard's mind and in its place there was nothing left but Frank. The way he smelled. The way he tasted. The way his lips felt against Gerard's.

       Despite the urgency of the kiss, Frank's hands tenderly caressed Gerard's face. They pressed flush against one another, chest to chest. Gerard had never been that close to another human being before but it was addictive and intoxicating and he wasn't sure how they'd ever stop. Gerard knew, then, that he was falling for Frank, no matter how long he'd known him or what his past held.

       He groaned as Frank licked and bit at his bottom lip begging for entrance. It took all of Gerard's strength to pull away, panting breathlessly. “Where are you going?” Frank asked, his pupils blown, as Gerard pulled himself from his grasp. “We have an early start tomorrow,” Gerard told him coyly, as he opened the door, “we have plans to enact.”

       He closed the door behind him and slipped across the hall to his own room. He curled up in bed, still basking in the taste of Frank. He laid there for too many hours painfully aware of Frank's presence across the hall. Little did he know, Frank was faring no better.


	8. The Meetings

       Gerard, Frank, and Mikey set out first thing in the morning, when the sky was just turning to a dark grey with sunrise. When Brendon interrogated them all about where they'd been sneaking off to the last several days, they each gave a rehearsed lie about finding new materials in order to reinforce the traps surrounding the lab. Nevermind that they never actually brought anything back with them.

       They met Ray at the bunker and explained the division of labor as they had decided upon it. He gave Mikey a wary look and took a quick count of the arrows in his quiver. They agreed to return to the bunker as soon as they were finished and wait until midnight for the others to return.

       With that, the young men went their separate ways. “Where do we go?” Gerard asked Frank, watching Ray and Mikey head toward the heart of the city. “Well,” Frank started, nonchalantly taking Gerard's gloved hand in his, “I figure the alcove they brought us to is a good enough place to start.” Gerard was too aware of their linked fingers to do anything but nod. “Do you speak any Mutelish?” Frank inquired as they started toward the edge of the city. Gerard gawped at him.

       “What is Mutelish?” he replied obtusely. Frank scoffed. “Geez, you really didn't do anything but kill them all these years, did you?” Frank observed casually, “it's their language. Most of them speak some English but it's handy to know.” Not for the first time, Gerard was ashamed at his previous closed-mindedness towards the mutated creatures. “I didn't know,” he muttered dejectedly.

       “Haloob matot,” Frank spat in a gutteral tongue. “Gesundheit,” Gerard retorted with a snicker. “It's a greeting,” Frank informed him humorlessly, “it means 'may the sun rise upon you.’ You say it to show respect.” “Haloob matut,” Gerard tried, the language rolling unattractively off of his tongue. “Um, no,” Frank corrected, stifling laughter, “I don't think that'll slide.” “What did I say?” Gerard asked with embarrassment. “Something nasty about their mother, I'm pretty sure,” Frank teased, “you'd better keep trying.”

       Frank attempted to teach Gerard a few different phrases in Mutelish but it appeared that he had no sense for it. It did, however, provide Frank with quite a few laughs. Soon, they had arrived at the opening of the alcove and Frank giggled and told Gerard to let him do the talking.

       They stepped into the encompassing darkness to the sound of fearful gasps. “We come in peace,” Frank told the huddled Mutes, in impressively fluent Mutelish, “we only wish to speak to your leader.” “Our leader, Cloyd,” replied a young female, in the same tongue, “he's away giving lessons to the children.” “Please, send someone to fetch him,” Frank begged, “it's of great importance that we speak to him. We can wait for a while.”

       The female began to whisper into another Mute’s ear.  He rose dubiously to his feet and slid his deformed body between Frank and Gerard, through the exit. “What now?” Gerard asked in a hushed voice. Frank slid down to sit beside the Mutes, who were clinging to one another around their feebly burning fire and said, “now, we wait.” In the time it took for the messenger to return with Cloyd, Frank only further demonstrated the depth of his kindness towards the creatures.

        “Are you cold?” Frank asked the female Mute, who was naked as the day she was born. Gerard knew that they had in some way evolved to the temperatures in ways normal humans hadn't but he thought that it couldn't be comfortable to naked in below zero temperatures, all of the time. The few of them that possessed clothes wore badly sewn, threadbare loincloths and “potato sack” tunics. Gerard fought off chills when the female's lidless eyes rolled in her head as she nodded.

       Frank was already unzipping his suspiciously overstuffed backpack and pulling out a small, worn blanket. He handed it to her gently. She thanked him profusely in their guttural language and immediately wrapped it around her gnarled shoulders.

       “What is it you want?” Cloyd asked in Mutelish, stepping into the alcove, his tentacle-like hands crossed over his boil covered chest. Gerard noticed that of all the Mutes he'd seen, Cloyd was the only one who wore both pants and a jacket, albeit too small for him. Frank rose to his feet, pulling Gerard with him. “Haloob matot,” Frank said immediately, with a small bow, “I'm Frank and this is Gerard.” Cloyd regarded Gerard distrustfully and Frank prodded him gently with his elbow.

       “Haloob matot,” Gerard spat out nervously, bowing so quickly, he nearly fell forward. Frank rolled his eyes and Cloyd stood unmoving in the opening of the alcove. “You have been kind to us in the past, boy,” Cloyd regarded Frank in his native tongue, then gestured to Gerard, “but this one and his companion have slain many of our people indiscriminately.” “I cannot excuse his and his brother's actions,” Frank replied with a sigh, “other than to say they have been gravely misinformed, for many years, and we come today with the intention of paving a better future... for all of us.”

       Cloyd's unnaturally long mouth fell into a frown but he gestured with a tentacle-like hand for Frank to go on. “We both know that the ones who have caused the most misery in this city are The Dreamers,” Frank began in gravelly Mutelish, “my friends and I are devising a plan to take down their leader and his foot soldiers. I was born there and I know the layout of their compound well. But what we make up for in knowledge, we lack in manpower.”

       “So, you're asking that for the sake of peace,” Cloyd condescended, “that I lead my people to slaughter.” “I know that it is no small feat, what we ask of you,” Frank retorted delicately, “but I am not asking you to say yes right this moment. All I ask is that you gather you followers and meet us at the Eastern border of the city, at sundown, seven days from now.” “How am I to know it is not a trick?” Cloyd demanded, the greenish skin of his brow furrowed, “what is to stop you from murdering all of us?”

       Frank raised his palms in surrender, “all I have to offer is my word.” Cloyd was thoughtful for a moment. “Dalub,” he beckoned the female Mute from before. She moved from the silent throng of Mutes and came to his side. They whispered back and forth for a few moments before Cloyd nodded. “Very well,” Cloyd said begrudgingly, “my followers and I shall meet you in seven days.”

       Frank grinned vibrantly underneath his mask, “thank you! You will not regret this!” “Listen here, boy,” Cloyd warned menacingly, “you have been a friend to my people in the past and I harbor no ill will against you but if you betray us, I will not hesitate to wipe you and your friends from the face of this horrid planet.” Frank nodded and thrust his open hand toward the Mute leader. Cloyd gave him a withering glance and Gerard's stomach rolled as the leader wrapped his tentacle around Frank's hand in an approximation of a handshake.

       As they stepped from the alcove, Gerard felt foolish to ask, “did he agree to meet?” “Yes,” Frank told him, with an uproarious laugh, “you're so much of a dork sometimes, that I could just… kiss you.” Gerard raised an eyebrow playfully. “Race you to the bunker?” He challenged, bracing himself to run. “Oh, you're on,” Frank declared and darted off ahead, “prepare to lose!” Their laughter echoed through the city.

       Meanwhile, Mikey and Ray were making their way to the dilapidated stadium in the center of the city. “I sure hope those two haven't gotten themselves killed,” Ray said his high voice fraught with tension. “Frank is pretty tight with the Mutes,” Mikey replied with a shrug, “I'd be more worried that the raiders will kill us on sight.”

        “That's reassuring,” Ray mumbled adjusting his toboggan over his rebellious hair. “I gotta ask,” Mikey asked jovially, “is the hair your Flaremark?” Ray blanched. “My mom's hair like this too,” he informed Mikey, “why would you ask that?”

        “Well, it's like, I've got this bum eye, Gee has his scars and Frank has his ears,” Mikey elucidated, “and you, other than the sheer size of your hair, seem pretty normal. You're definitely not old enough to be unmarked.” Ray was quiet for a moment before he muttered something under his breath. “I didn’t catch that,” Mikey told him, straining to hear. “I HAVE A TAIL!” Ray exclaimed at the top of his lungs, “are you happy now?” Mikey began to roar so hard with laughter, that he fell to his knees in the street. “It's not funny!” Ray admonished, kicking filthy snow at him. But even Ray couldn't help but smile.

       As the stadium rose into view, Ray and Mikey were confounded at the sheer size of it. Much like it's surroundings, the stadium was crushed and caved-in in spots but that still left a whole lot to be intimidated by. From dozens of feet away, they became aware of a cacophonous thunder of voices and weapon strikes.

       “How the hell are we supposed to get in there?” Ray squeaked, lifting his bow from his back, “it's not like we can just walk in the front door.” “I don't see why not,” Mikey retorted rashly and took off at a sprint. “Mikey!” Ray called after him to no avail, then said to himself, “this idiot is gonna get me killed.” He raced after him frantically.

       They found the entrance to be surprisingly unguarded. But then again, who else would willing walk into a den of bloodthirsty raiders? The vast lobby area was a destitute museum of the time before The Flare. Mangled vending machines lay overturned along the walls. Soot blackened sports banners hung by threads over the crumbling archways. Red rope dividers laid, with little regard, on the mud blackened floors. The remaining glass from the ticket booth had been trampled into dust. Were it not for these details, one could almost imagine the stadium in its former glory, with the masses in their face paint and jerseys lined up in neat rows to attend a football game.

       Ray had seen many horrible and wonderful things in his ten years as a courier but never anything like the majesty the stadium still retained despite its disrepair. It was a sight to behold. Mikey strode confidently to the opening of the stadium in earnest and stopped short.

       The dome of the stadium was the most enormous thing either of them has ever seen. But most alarming were the masses of raiders sparring in the center of the large field. Rows and rows of chairs elevated from the walls but only one person was seated. It was Kalah. Mikey zeroed in on her and before his fear could consume him, started towards the field, Ray following nervously on his heels.

       “Kalah!” he screamed over the roar of the raiders fighting. At once, the crowd of warriors fell silent and still. “We’ve come to request an audience with you!” Mikey continued, his gloved hand gripping his bat. The speck of a woman rose from her seat, in the distance, and started down the stairs of the arena.

                “Who are you?!” she demanded fiercely, her voice snapping, like the crack of a whip, through the stadium. “My name is Mikey Way,” he declared and then gestured to his anxious friend, “this is Ray. We have a proposition for you!” “Ray?!” Talah spat back at them, “the courier for the compound?!” “Your reputation precedes you,” Mikey joked, elbowing his companion in the ribs, before responding, “that's the one!”

       “You bring compound trash into my home and then ask for an audience?!” she retorted malignantly. “About that-” Mikey started. “ATTACK!” Talah commanded at the top of her lungs.

       “Shit!” Ray exclaimed, stringing his bow as a dozen raiders flooded toward them. Mikey pushed Ray's bow down. “We can't kill them,” Mikey reminded him, handing him a club from his belt, “we need their help.” By the time Ray had replaced his bow over his back and began to protest, the raiders were upon them.

       Mikey had been preparing for this since the day he was born. When Frank and Gerard had assigned them this daunting task, Mikey had been terrified. But now as the group of filthy raiders reached them, weapons raised, Mikey's world slowed down to a crawl. It was what one might call a battle calm.

       He watched a blade whiz by his head as he swept the feet out from under its owner. He quickly dispatched a man, who grabbed him by the shoulder, with a crack of his bat to the knee. A woman made an ill-timed grab at his mask and he heard her nose break with a stomach-churning crunch as he elbowed her in the face.

       Ray wasn't faring quite as well at Mikey's back. Ranged weapons had always been more his forte and he was struggling just to keep the club in his hands. He sustained a blow to the side of his head and his hearing became cottony and muffled. He couldn't fight back anger as he kneed the man in the stomach and victoriously watched him fall to his knees.

       Mostly with Mikey's effort, the raiders were falling, incapacitated, around them. “GO!” Kalah screamed and before they could begin to celebrate their small victory, another dozen were attacking. Mikey's muscles burned pleasantly as he dodged and countered attacks. He'd taken a good number of hits and he knew that he'd be in pain the next day but in the moment he felt like he could go on forever.

        Sweat was trickling down Ray's skin as he kicked, punched and swung desperately, trying to stay on his feet. Before he could regain his balance, a woman screamed and launched them both the ground. She wailed at him savagely. She pried his club from his hand and raised it to strike him. Ray tried his best to guard his mask. Before she could strike him, Mikey had grabbed the woman under her arms and slung her away from them. “Thanks!” Ray squeaked as Mikey pulled him to his feet. “Don't rest easy yet!” Mikey responded, blocking an incoming machete. All but a few of the raider attackers were crawling away to lick their wounds and Mikey was feeling confident. That was, until Kalah dropped gracefully over the wall and darted toward them, her sheathed katana poised and ready to strike.

       Mikey had never seen anyone move so fast. Her bright, red cloak flared out behind her like the trails of a comet. He barely had time to brace himself before she was striking him in the side. The breath was knocked from his chest as she moved with lightning speed and slammed her knee into his stomach.

       Kalah was relentless. She was one of the few of the raiders wearing a gas mask but even beneath the mask, he could see her brown, almond-shaped eyes blazing with determination. The only relief was that since her sword was sheathed, he knew her goal was not to kill him.

        She bombarded him with blow after blow, so quickly that Ray could do nothing more than stand with the remaining raiders and watch. If she wasn't exuding such violence, one could almost call her strategic strikes beautiful. Mikey was growing weak on his feet.

        ‘I can't lose,’ he thought to himself as she battered him over and over, 'if I lose this will have all been for nothing!’ He roared and stood up straight as he could. This final act of bravado was enough to give her pause and leave an opening for Mikey.

        He slapped the sword from her grip, sending it flying to the deadened grass. She didn't spare so much as a glance over her shoulder before she renewed her attacks with punches and palm strikes. Mikey barely dodged these blows, his surplus of adrenaline leaving him. At last, he managed to seize her by the wrist.

       With all the strength in his body, he lifted and tossed her over his shoulder and sprawling to the ground, knocking her blue baseball cap from her head. Instinctually, he raised his bat as though to deal his opponent a final blow. Then saw her. Her hands raised to protect her head, her brown eyes dilated with fear. He lowered his bat slowly.

       He extended his hand to her and she flinched back for a moment. Reluctantly, she reached up and took it. He gently pulled her to her feet, before reaching down to retrieve her cap. He dusted it off and replaced it on her head. “Anyway,” he said, far too casually for the circumstances, “I was hoping to speak with you.”

       In the end, Kalah was impressed. Mikey had no such delusion that a single fight would be enough to convince her to join them in battle. She agreed to gather her people and meet them at the Eastern border of the city. Frank and Gerard would have to do the rest. Mikey hoped that it would be enough or else they may have had another war on their hands.

       Back in the bunker, Frank was making good on his earlier teasings. He and Gerard sat cloaked in candlelight, embracing. They'd been exchanging kiss after kiss, for what felt like hours.

       It was innocent, really. There was no saliva swapped. No distinct urgency. But it was, oh so, intimate. It was an entirely new world for Gerard and he thought that with enough time, he could put this moment in a time capsule within his mind and never forget the gentle press of Frank's lips against his.

       He knew that eventually, it wouldn't be enough for either of him and the thought made his heartbeat quicken. But now was not the time. They were essentially planning a revolution against a faction that much of his life, Gerard hadn't even known existed. When all was said and done, when Capo was defeated, there would be endless time for he and Frank to explore not only each other but also their feelings for one another. For now, Gerard contented himself with this pleasant darkness and Frank's fingers tangled in his hair.

       Gerard was just building up the courage to touch one of Frank's pixie-like ears when the airlock opened with a pop. “That was fucking crazy, man-” Ray started, his voice filled with excitement. Frank and Gerard pulled apart but it was already too late. “I fuckin’ knew it!” Mikey shouted, closing the door behind them. Gerard began to blush and threw one of his boots at his brother.

        “Too busy making out to worry for your brother's safety, I see,” Mikey scolded, not unkindly. “Well, you're alive and in one piece, so no worrying necessary,” Frank retorted with a grin, “how did it go?” “It was amazing!” Ray answered for him animatedly, “this guy is a fucking machine.” It was Mikey's turn to blush.

       “So all Brendon's lessons finally came in handy, eh?” Gerard asked with a wink. “He was handing people's asses to them!” Ray gushed, “it was insane!” Mikey elbowed him good-naturedly.

       Gerard was proud. Mikey's boldness had paid off. He had spent many years feeling like he had to protect his brother from the world. He was learning that Mikey was capable of surviving without him. It almost made him a little melancholic.

       “No, what was insane was Kalah,” the younger brother retorted, awe in his voice. “Wait,” Frank spoke, straightening his posture, “you fought Kalah?!” “Dude, she was so fast,” Ray told them with a chuckle, “it was like nothing else I've ever seen before. She was kicking Mikey's ass.” “Um, 'was’ is the operative word here,” Mikey supplied, “though I'll admit she was pretty fucking tough.” “Mikey totally just threw her like a sack of potatoes,” Ray explained, obviously impressed by what he'd seen, “also, I'm pretty sure she digs you, Mikey.”

       “Shut up,” Mikey told him, blushing. He turned to Frank and Gerard. “What's our next move?” the younger brother asked, his good eye blazing with resolve. “We move on to phase two,” Frank said, grinning as cracked his knuckles. Gerard smiled, threw an arm around Frank and looked to his brother and Ray, “we've got a stage to build.”


	9. The Rally

       The week that followed their meeting with the respective leaders of the Mutes and the raiders was one of the most physically laborious that Gerard had ever experienced. But it was also the most hopeful. He'd spent the majority of his life living… just to live. Now, with his brother and their friends, he was working towards something. Something real.

       They couldn't clean the air or make the sun come out again but they thought that, just maybe, they could make their little slice of the world a better place. All four of the young men were happy just to be doing something. It wasn't, however, without emotional turmoil.

       There was the little task of not only keeping the raiders and Mutes from murdering one another, but also convincing them to join forces as a united front to take down Capo and The Dreamers. Gerard had been struggling to think of how they should approach them, knowing they would likely be furious for having been duped into commiserating with their enemies. If they didn't say precisely the right things, they would have a blood bath on their hands.

        Frank was struggling with the inevitable revelation of the true identity of Gerard and Mikey's father. He kept waiting for the perfect to tell them the truth but days came and went and, still, he couldn't bring himself to tell them. How could he tell the man he was falling in love with that his father was a bloodthirsty predator?

       Despite their concerns, the young men awoke before dawn and headed into the city. They met at the Eastern edge of the city and for the first two and a half days, they spent their time searching for sturdy wood and nails, which was harder than any of them anticipated. They caught a lucky break and found a good amount of lumber in the wreckage of a hardware store but most of what they brought back were broken pieces of salvage.

       Once that task was completed, they faced an even more daunting chore; the actual raising of the stage. They had no blueprints or, really, any carpentry experience between them but Frank found a basic building manual in Billie's small library and they were determined. Frank assured them that it was necessary. He said that whenever leaders in the past needed to unite the masses, they always gave a grand proclamation on a magnificent stage. Gerard didn't have the heart to remind Frank that it was those so called leaders who had created the wasteland they lived in.

       So for those four days, they worked their fingers to the bone, day and night, building the stage which they hoped would bring positive change to their world. They fell into their beds, each night, exhausted beyond compare. They slept little and rose, having gotten little rest, to do it again the next day. But as physically trying as it was, nonetheless, they had fun.

        They got splinters and bruises, yes, but they also told jokes, shared stories and grew inevitably closer. Gerard was sure he learned to understand his brother better in those seven days than he had in the twenty-five years since his birth. It may have looked like a silly project to an outsider but, in that week, Gerard realized that he wouldn't hesitate to trust these men with his life.

       And with half a day to spare, the stage was finished. It was in no way grand or magnificent. The wood was cracked and unpolished. It was unleveled and taller than it should have been in some places. They were forced to substitute heavy, stacked pieces of rubble for stairs.

       That afternoon though, the young men stood several feet back, admiring their handy work. As Frank laced his through Gerard's, there was an intense feeling of pride amongst the companions. “Let's test it out!” Mikey called and broke apart from the troop.

         The others looked at him as though the thought had never occurred to them and raced after him. They stepped one by one up the concrete stairs and stood along the length of the stage. It creaked underfoot but, thankfully, held their collective weight. “Is it bad that I'm tempted to jump?” Frank asked, with his eyes aglow. “DON'T!” the other men yelled out at once, much to Frank's amusement.

       Seven arrived faster than any of them could have anticipated. They left to the bunker to eat a quick dinner of the remains of Frank's meat strips and some peanuts Billie had grown and by the time they finished, they had had just enough time to run back to the stage. They lit several torches and placed them in quickly made, free-standing sconces along the edge of the stage.

       The four young men laid upon the stage, their legs dangling innocuously over the edge. Just a few decades before, they'd have been greeted by the mystifying and humbling vacuum of space but alas, all they were met with was dark, rolling ozone. Suddenly, they became aware of a mass of booming footsteps approaching. “It's the Mutes,” Ray squeaked, rising to his feet, “they're actually coming!”

       It was a sea of elongated limbs and discolored skin. Their number was not large. There only were sixty or seventy Mutes approaching the stage but their presence was one of power. Cloyd lead them and despite his mutations, he was noble in his ferocity. “We're here, boy,” Cloyd shouted in Mutelish, when he and his followers had filed in before the stage, “what do you want?”

       The men exchanged a look of uncertainty. It was a few minutes past seven, according Ray's automatic watch, but still there was no sign of the raiders. “Good evening,” Frank called out nervously in the gravelly tongue, “thank you for coming. I only ask that you wait just a minute and we'll begin as soon as possible.” “Do you think my time invaluable, boy?!” Cloyd responded and his followers murmured in agreement. “Not at all, sir,” Frank replied earnestly, “we've just hit a snafu in our timing. I apologize for making you wait.” “Very well,” Cloyd retorted after a moment, “you have ten minutes.” Gerard prayed that it would be enough.

       Gerard grew more and more anxious as the minutes passed, fearing that they would miss their chance to unite them and be forced to fulfill their plans half-cocked. Seven minutes passed before distant torch lights rose in the distance. Gasps collectively rose from the Mutes as the raiders came into view.

       More than one hundred raiders started toward them, Kalah in the forefront. They stopped short about twenty feet from the crowd of Mutes. Cries of outrage came from the groups, both Mute and raider. “What is the meaning of this!?” Kalah shouted furiously. “You… have… betrayed us, boy!” Cloyd yelled out in heavily accented English.

       “You call us here and expect us to associate with common filth?!” Kalah growled at the boys. The raiders cheered in mutual fury. “You are nothing but senseless murderers,” spat back one of the Mutes in surprisingly fluid English. Suddenly, the Mutes and Raiders were sending threats and insults back and forth and the air was growing thick with tension.

       The groups were moving closer together, weapons appearing in their hands and in moments, they would have had a full-fledged battle in their hands. “Please!” Frank called out at the masses but his voice was lost in the rage that surrounded them. “What do we do?” Mikey cried, in a panic as their words became more and more heated. It was like thread snapped and instantly the groups were surging forward, weapons raised with the intent to kill.

       Gerard did the only thing he could think of. He ripped the shotgun from Frank's holster, undid the safety like Frank had taught him and fired the weapon into the air with an ear piercing boom. “STOP!” he demanded as the crowd froze before him. “This is absolutely senseless. When is the last time you asked yourself what you are fighting for?! Is it truly because some of you have extra limbs and some of you only have Flaremarks? “Or is it because you have allowed yourself to be manipulated for years into not focusing on your real enemy? By killing each other indiscriminately you accomplish nothing but furthering the goals of those who want nothing more than for all of you to die and leave this world to them.”

       The crowd was silent as they lowered their weapons and turned to face the stage. “Your true enemy… No, our true enemy lives comfortably inside the compound walls on the other side of the city. His name is Capo and he is the one who cut off trade with the raiders forcing you to fight for resources. He is the one has made a campaign of slaughtering Mutes like dogs in the street. “Turn your eyes from each other! If only to realize that we are all out here trying to survive... and if we can unify, we can make this city a place where you can do more than just survive... I'm talking about a place where you can truly live, where we can walk the streets without fear of ambush or assassination. But in order for that world to ever exist, I need you to lower your weapons from each other.”

        The groups mingled into one mass as they moved forward, enraptured by his words. “And I ask you instead to raise them to Capo and his Dreamers! Unite with us, once and for all and end this foolish nonsense! No more wars, no more senseless murder. We need a revolution! “We need to take the years of rage and pain that we've built up over these years and release it upon those who are truly responsible. We can have peace! We can! And I am asking all of you to take the first step with us… and bring down the compound!”

       Gerard was panting by the time he finished and Frank gently pried the gun from his hands. The silence surrounding them was deafening and for first the time the young men understood the true enormity of the path they had taken. Just then, the crowd broke out into cheers of agreement. Relief flooded the young men's bodies. Not for the first time, Frank cursed the poisoned air, for there was nothing he wanted more in this moment than to kiss Gerard.

       “Silence!” Kalah shouted and began to surge through the crowd like a streak of lightning. Gerard feared perhaps they'd let their guard down to soon. She came to stop beside Cloyd, who took a step back in alarm.

       She surprised them all by bowing her head. “Haloob matot,” she uttered quietly to the Mute leader. “H-haloob matot,” Cloyd replied dubiously. “He's right,” Kalah told him from under the brim of her baseball cap, “this has gone on for far too long. I want to call a truce.” “W-why?” Cloyd demanded distrustfully. Kalah turned to look not at Gerard, but at Mikey.

        “I, too, want to do more than just survive,” she said, her almond eyes blazing in the torch light, “I want to live. I want to love. I want a future... Not just another day to kill.” Mikey's face was bright pink beneath his mask. Kalah thrust her opened hand toward Cloyd.

       “From this day forth, no harm will come to your people by our doing,” she vowed, “do you accept?” Cloyd looked out toward his people and for once he saw hope in fear’s place within their eyes. He nodded reluctantly and took her hand in his tentacle, “I… accept.” Gerard was shocked to see joyous tears in the eyes of both human and Mute alike.

       She turned her gaze on Gerard at once. “We will join you in battle,” she said simply, “I hope you have a plan.” “We will join you as well,” Cloyd called to Frank who was clutching Gerard's hand for dear life. “Thank you, sir,” Frank cried joyously in English, “please, both of you meet us here in three days, at noon and we'll discuss our plans with you.”

        “Very well,” Kalah conceded before turning to Mikey, “Mikey Way, I'd be interested in speaking with you, soon.” “Okay!” Mikey replied, his voice breaking with nerves in a way that Gerard had never heard before. And just as soon as they'd arrived, the groups broke apart and filed back into the city. “She's definitely into you, man,” Ray teased Mikey with a laugh. “Not the time, Ray!” Mikey scolded, his cheeks burning.

       With this success under their belts, the young men put out their torches and headed home, assured that one day soon, Ray would join them. They were ecstatic. With any luck, it would only be weeks before their city would be free from Capo and his Dreamers’ control.

        Yes, the trio was feeling quite confident as they made their way to the lab. That was, until they stepped through the airlock. Brendon and Billie stood on the other side of the door, their arms crossed and their expressions furious. “What in the fuck are you doing?!” Billie demanded uncharacteristically. “Um-” Gerard started. “You thought you could just start a fucking uprising and not tell us about it?” Brendon seethed.

       “How did you find out?” Mikey inquired, pulling off his mask. “You've been hiding shit for weeks,” Brendon retorted as though the boys were stupid, “so I followed you and what should I find but you four idiots holding a goddamn rally for the Mutes and raiders?” “They called a truce,” Gerard told them as he removed his mask, “it's too late to call it off.”

       “We know,” Billie sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “And we're not going to stand by and let you idiots get killed,” Brendon added, deadpan. “What are you going to do?” Frank asked frantically, sliding his mask off. “We're going to join you,” Brendon told them, his eyes crinkling with a smile, “we'll talk about this tomorrow.”

       With that, the older men turned to leave. Brendon paused in the hallway and turned to Gerard, “good speech tonight, son. I'm proud of you.” Then he was gone and Gerard felt like he might cry. Before he could, though, Frank had wrapped him in a hug and kissed him passionately. “We're going to win,” Frank declared, his forehead pressed to Gerard's, “and it's all because of you.”


	10. The Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit shorter than usual. I'm sorry.

       In the three days leading up to their meeting with Cloyd and Kalah, Brendon practically beat every fighting technique he knew into the trios’ heads. He set up elaborate training exercises and made them spar day and night and even after the young men were convinced that they were in peak form, he demanded more of them. As he said, “pretty good” didn't win wars.

       Frank's anxiety about Capo and telling Mikey and Gerard of his true identity gnawed at him worse than ever as he mapped out their battle plans, late at night. Frank had come to terms with the fact that it was their father who had beaten and preyed upon him but there was no telling whether the brothers would be able to separate themselves from the things their father had done. Frank sometimes wondered if it would be possible to execute their plans without them ever knowing Capo's true identity but he knew that Gerard would never forgive him if they sent him off to kill his only remaining parent without ever telling him.

        When the three days were up, the young men met at the stage they had painstakingly built. “You've got the map finished, right?” Ray asked, anxiety creeping into his voice. “Yes and I included the changes from your notes,” Frank told him with a sigh, “relax, man.” “I'm sorry but things are getting pretty bad in there,” Ray retorted, “I've barely seen my mom in weeks. Capo won't let her leave his wing of the compound and I'm running out of favors to cash in order to see her.”

       “We're gonna get her out,” Mikey assured him, clapping him on the shoulder. “I know,” Ray said wearily, “I just hate all this waiting around. I just want this over with.” “We gotta do this right,” Gerard opined, “if we rush in without a fully fleshed out battle plan we're likely to get ourselves killed.” “No, I know you're right but,” Ray hesitated, “no offense, Frank but after what you told us… I'm worried about mom.” Frank stared hauntedly at his feet.

       Gerard took Frank's hand in his and squeezed it tightly as if to say, ‘I’m here. You're not alone.’ Frank rewarded him with a weak smile. “Here they come!” Mikey called out, looking in the distance. Despite being blind in one eye, what vision he had was sharp as a tack. And sure enough, side by side, Kalah and Cloyd rose in the distance.

       The young men rushed off to meet them. Frank met Cloyd with the usual formal greeting and gave a quick bow to Kalah. “We have our plans all laid out,” Gerard told them, “if it's okay, we'd like to take you to our base of operations and talk strategy.” Neither party had any objections and at once they started toward the bunker.

       As they stepped out of the airlock, Cloyd looked so scandalized by the decontamination process that the young men and Kalah, as well, had to stifle fits of laughter. With the door properly sealed and all of their remaining candles lit, the humans took to removing their masks. None of them had ever seen Kalah without her mask and all four of the young men were floored by her natural beauty in the candlelight.

       Her brown, almond eyes glimmered above a small angular nose dotted with delicate freckles. Her plump lips were secured in a near permanent pout and her straight, black hair stopped just below her chin. She met Mikey's eyes and Gerard swore he could practically see his little brother's pupils dilate with attraction.

       Frank was the first to break the silence. “Okay,” Frank announced, apprehension in his tone, “let's get down to business.” The six of them moved to the counter and watched as Frank placidly unrolled a scrap of paper. It was a carefully drawn map of the compound, complete with diagrams and marked locations of where their targets were commonly found. The six poured over it, doing their best to remember every detail.

        “How many are inside?” Kalah asked immediately. “Around three-hundred,” Ray answered in his squeaky voice. “About half of them are innocents,” Frank added, “there are about forty sentries and they split up into groups of ten for each of the four guard shifts.” “The other one hundred and ten or so are made up of Capo's private guards and The Dreamers themselves,” Ray explained, pointing to their quarters on the map.

        “He keeps about ten guards and The Dreamers serve as enforcers for the people,” Frank growled, “they were introduced as a sort of police force but you could more accurately compare them to slave drivers.” “What… are your… plans?” Cloyd asked in labored English. Frank's stomach felt hollow and angry.

       “Okay, so the first step is for Ray and a few allies we have on the inside to find their way into the armory and either sabotage or steal their ammunition,” Frank began, “preferably sabotage so that we can keep the element of surprise.” “How will we know if he's been successful?” Kalah inquired skeptically. “If we're not shot down before we reach the entrance,” Mikey replied with a shrug. Kalah and Cloyd looked unimpressed but nodded for them to go on.

        “I want half of the Mutes to come with me and help escort the innocents out of harm's way,” Frank told Cloyd, “it will be the most time consuming task because we'll have to meet Ray and the other couriers to secure enough gas masks for all the civilians but it should also be the lowest risk. Do we have eyes on that, Ray?” “There was an inventory the other night, there were two hundred and seventy in storage. It should be more than enough.”

       “The other half will go with Mikey to the the sentries’ quarters and Kalah and the raiders will fan out to these points here, here, and here,” Frank instructed, pointing the locations out, one by one, on the map. “Kalah, you'll have to appoint a leader for a small band the take out Capo's private guards near the wing he lives in. With luck, we'll catch them off guard and they'll be in between shifts.” Originally, they had decided that Mikey and Gerard would go to the sentries’ quarters and the absence of his name was not lost on him.

       “At risk of sounding childish,” Gerard interrupted quietly, “what about me?” Guilt twisted its way into Frank's expression and he looked back and forth between the brothers. “You're going in first,” Frank told him, his eyes filled with pain, “alone.” “Why in the fuck would he do something like that?” Mikey demanded incredulously.

       “To serve as a distraction,” Frank told them with a sigh. “What good would that do anyone?” Gerard questioned, abashed. “He… he's your father,” Frank blurted before he could lose his nerves, “your dad isn't dead… he is... Capo.” “What kind of sick fucking joke is this?!” Mikey spat, “this isn't funny, Frank!”

       “I'm not fuckin’ joking,” Frank retorted helplessly. “But… you don't know anything our father,” Gerard tried. He felt like his world was tilting on its axis and at any moment he would lose his balance and fall away into nothingness. “I saw a photo of him in the garden,” Frank supplied sorrowfully.

       “A-are you sure?” Mikey asked dubiously. “I'd known that rotten son of a bitch anywhere,” Frank spat back, harsher than he intended. Kalah and Cloyd stood silently, shocked by this revelation. “How?” Gerard asked, tears prickling in his eyes, “we thought he he was dead. Why would he leave us to become… some kind of horrible dictator?” Frank, disregarding the others’ presence, swept Gerard into his arms. “I don't know,” he murmured into Gerard's ear, “but you're the only one who can find out.”

       Gerard pushed Frank away. “How long have you known?” he demanded, tears streaking angrily down his face. “Not long-” Frank started. “How long?!” Gerard cut him off.

       “Two and half weeks,” Frank conceded, prepared to take the brunt of Gerard's anger, “I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner.”Gerard surprised them all, however, by dropping weakly to his knees. “How can you bear to look at us?” Gerard cried out, gesturing to Mikey, “we're the children of a fucking monster.” Frank was about to move to comfort him. To tell him that he was nothing like his father. That for all the darkness that Capo brought into his world, that just knowing Gerard made him understand what it was like to feel the warm glow of the sun.

         Before he could though, Kalah shot forth like a bolt of lightning and slapped Gerard across the face. “Enough!” she shouted as he raised his hand to his stinging, scarred cheek. “We no longer live in a world where we have the luxury of inheriting the sins of our fathers, nor their glories. You are meant to be a warrior and yet you kneel on the ground, sobbing like a child because your father is an evil man? I refuse to watch this! “Will you abandon your cause because your father is our enemy? Will you crawl away into a hole and die?” “No,” Gerard replied softly. “Are you still on our side? Will you still fight?” she questioned, staring daggers at him.

        “Yes,” Gerard said, a little stronger. “Then get on your feet and as you said, fight to make this world a place worth living in!” she demanded of him, a small smile playing on her lips, “leave your past where it belongs and step into the bright future you've promised.” Gerard nodded and she grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet. “And you, Mikey Way,” she said with a glance over her shoulder, “I will hear no such blubbering from you.” Mikey's eyes were downcast but he nodded.

       “Cloyd, I must speak with you,” she said hurriedly to the Mute leader, who was baffled both by the circumstances and the language barrier. He nodded and the two stepped away to talk in hushed voices. The brothers exchanged a look of consternation. Frank brought his palm gently to Gerard's scarred, painful cheek and caressed it. “I'm sorry,” he said again. Gerard shook his head and gave him a wan smile.

       He moved away from Frank and pulled his brother into a hug. “You okay?” Gerard asked Mikey gruffly. “Not at, fucking, all,” Mikey replied, his brow furrowed, “that motherfucker abandoned us, terrorized the city and hurt our friends. I'll be okay when he's fucking dead.” Gerard nodded in understanding.

        “We'll need two weeks to prepare,” Kalah announced, “our people need time to train together and grow united. We suggest that you take this time to do the same. We will be in contact.” “What is your rush?” Mikey asked her. “You… have much… to talk about,” Cloyd spoke solemnly. Kalah turned to the brothers, “be prepared to do what needs to be done.” She fastened her gas mask over her face and she and Cloyd took their leave.

         “Man,” Ray griped once they were gone, “I just want this to be over.” The silence that followed let him know that he wasn't alone. As the young men made their way home that night, the air was heavy and dark.  As they skulked through the darkness, they knew there was no going back to the way things used to be.


End file.
